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0P  THE 
UNIVEBSITY 
r>       OF        . 


CHUNDA 


A  STORY  OF  THE   NAVAJOS 

BY 

HORATIO  OLIVER  LADD 


NEW  YORK:  EATON  &  MAINS 
CINCINNATI  :  JENNINGS  &  GRAHAM 


Copyright,  1906,  by 
EATON  &   MAINS. 


TO  MY 

BELOVED  AND  DEVOTED  WIFE 

HARRIETT  VAUGHAN  ABBOTT  LADD 


m6679^5 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Off  the  Trail 3 

II.     Hot-si 9 

III.  The  Races 17 

IV.  Hut-tah 23 

V.     The  Shamans'  Dance 34 

VI.     Chunda 43 

VII.     Tswane 51 

VIII.     Hedipa 60 

IX.     The  Ancient  Navajo 69 

X.     A  Ride  to  Freedom 80 

XI.     Returned  and  Released 87 

XII.     In  the  House  of  Hedipa 98 

XIII.  A  Woman's  Rage 103 

XIV.  Transformed 115 

XV.     Inspirations irg 

XVI.     Eulalia  Lawton 129 

XVII.     Revelations 139 

XVIII.     On  the  Heights 151 

XIX.     A  Woman's  Pleading 161 

XX.     A  Godspeed 173 

XXI.     A  Broken  Pledge 180 

XXII.     Nizenni 197 

XXIII.  The  Daughter  of  Hedipa 210 

XXIV.  Shadows  in  a  Clear  Sky 214 

XXV.     The  Capture 222 

XXVI.     In  the  Hidden  Stronghold 231 

XXVII.     Through  the  Fires  into  Life 243 

V 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Chunda       ......      Frontispiece 

Facing 
Page 

Hut-tah 28 

Hot-si  ....-.-  36 

Hedipa  ....-.-61 

The  Ancient  Navajo         -  -  -  -  -  71 

The  Cave         ....---     108 
Entrance  to  the  Gorge     -  -  -  -  -  235 


CHAPTER  I 


OFF   THE   TRAIL 


"These  horses  are  dragging  us  to  certain  death 
on  the  bottom  of  that  black  caiion,"  shouted  the 
guide,  with  a  terrible  oath. 

In  the  gloom  of  a  mesa  park  covered  with  lofty- 
pines  two  men  were  struggling  with  their  horses, 
which  were  trying  to  free  themselves  from  a  rude 
buckboard  wagon.  The  Indian  trail  across  this 
mountain  plateau,  to  which  they  ascended  from  the 
Fort  Defiance  agency  early  in  the  morning,  had  led 
them  astray.  In  the  afternoon  they  had  lost  the  new 
wagon  road  to  Chin-a-li,  which  the  guide  had  con- 
fidently chosen,  but  had  turned  into  this  well-worn 
trail  for  ponies,  which  made  but  an  uncertain  and 
difficult  track  for  wheels. 

The  two  horses,  well  jaded  and  cross  from  hard 
usage,  were  showing  a  dangerous  temper,  but  the 
desperate  driver  swore  that  they  should  bring  his 
companion  and  himself  to  their  destination  in  the 
Canon  de  Chelly^  by  noon  of  the  next  day. 

The  darkness  was  deepened  by  the  shadows 
which  the  moon  cast  through  the  dense  treetops, 
yet  wherever  the  trail  would  permit  the  horses 
leaped  forward  on  an  uneven  gallop  to  avoid  the 
deep  ruts.     Suddenly  they  stopped,  and  the  driver, 

'Pronounced  Canyon  de  Shay. 


Chunda 

trusting  their  intelligence,  threw  down  the  reins, 
leaped  to  the  ground,  and  sprang  forward  to  seize 
their  bits  with  an  exclamation  which  thoroughly- 
aroused  the  traveler  by  its  accents  of  terror  mingled 
with  the  profanity  to  which  his  ears  had  become 
accustomed. 

They  were  on  the  brink  of  a  steep  gorge,  to  which 
the  bridle  path  they  had  been  following  descended, 
winding  along  the  ledge  dangerous  for  the  sure 
steps  of  Navajo  ponies  and  impassable  for  wheels. 

The  traveler  slipped  cautiously  from  the  rear  of 
the  buckboard  as  the  two  horses,  now  thoroughly 
frightened,  were  rearing  and  plunging  in  their 
efforts  to  wheel  from  the  brink  of  the  precipice. 
Though  heavily  laden,  the  vehicle  was  at  last  pulled 
back  over  the  rough  ground  strewn  with  loose 
stones,  and  when  the  horses  were  quieted,  though 
still  trembling  at  their  fright,  the  guide  said : 

"Professor,  we  must  camp  here,  and  let  up  on 
this  trail,  or  we  shall  not  reach  Chin-a-li  alive.  We 
are  off  the  road,  and  I  confess  I  don't  know  where 
we  are." 

"Well,"  said  his  companion,  "you  are  right  now. 
It  has  been  evident  to  me  that  you  have  been  driving 
wild  since  three  o'clock  this  afternoon." 

The  guide  muttered  an  oath,  and  turned  his  horses 
aside  into  level  and  open  ground  that  was  less 
densely  covered  with  pines. 

"You  have  lost  the  trail  and  made  it  doubtful 
whether  we  see  the  great  Yavishe  dance  tomorrow," 
continued  the  Professor.     "However,  we  have  just 

4 


Off  the  Trail 

saved  our  necks,  and  we  will  shake  off  the  troubles 
of  today  and  get  some  rest." 

"There  is  a  big  pine,"  answered  the  guide,  "and 
plenty  of  wood  in  that  rotten  trunk  near  it,"  point- 
ing to  a  huge  tree  that  must  have  fallen  many  years 
before  in  the  path  of  a  storm. 

"We  will  camp  here,"  said  the  Professor,  as  they 
drove  up  under  the  dark  pine  branches,  and  he 
pointed  out  to  the  open  ground  where,  in  the  light 
of  the  September  moon,  there  seemed  to  be  good 
grass  for  the  horses. 

The  animals  were  turned  loose,  and  firewood  was 
gathered.  Soon  by  the  glare  of  a  blazing  fire  a  bed 
of  fragrant  pinon  boughs  was  made,  partly  pro- 
tected from  the  cold  wind  by  the  butt  of  the  tree.  A 
little  bread  and  jelly,  the  remains  of  the  noonday 
lunch,  and  a  dipper  of  water  gave  a  slight  refresh- 
ment to  the  travelers,  and  then,  with  backs  to  the 
tree  and  feet  toward  the  fire,  they  rolled  their  cigar- 
ettes and  talked  far  into  the  night  hours  over  their 
adventures. 

Soon  their  conversation  drifted  to  the  traditions 
of  the  powerful  tribe  in  whose  reservation  they  were 
lost.  They  were  twenty-five  miles  away  from  any 
white  man,  in  the  heart  of  the  Navajo  country, 
where  seventeen  thousand  of  the  most  uncivilized 
and  powerful  savages  of  the  Apache  race  roamed  at 
will,  with  herds  of  horses  or  flocks  of  sheep,  or 
sojourned  for  a  few  weeks  beside  some  fertile  spot 
in  the  vicinity  of  a  stream  to  raise  their  annual  crops 
of  maize  and  beans  and  melons. 

5 


ClIUNDA 

Tales  of  waylaid  hunters  or  prospectors  through 
these  wilds  at  first  beguiled  the  hours.  Then  the 
customs  of  this  strange  people,  with  an  ancestry  and 
history  among  these  mountainous  plateaus  extend- 
ing back  more  than  three  hundred  years,  entertained 
the  missionary  teacher,  who  had  come  three  hun- 
dred miles  into  this  desolate  region  to  be  present  at 
the  great  meeting  of  the  Navajos.  He  w-as  bearing 
an  important  message  from  the  President  at  Wash- 
ington, and  an  offer  from  the  Indian  Bureau  of  new 
arrangements  for  the  industrial  education  of  their 
children  in  his  school  at  San  Gabriel. 

A  failure  to  reach  the  Canon  de  Chelly  next  day 
would  bring  a  disheartening  sense  of  a  Providence 
adverse  to  cherished  plans,  but  his  faith  and  purpose 
had  often  thus  been  tested,  while  his  motives  had 
been  purified. 

But  to  Redford  there  was  no  fear  of  actual  dis- 
aster as  he  stretched  his  vigorous  limbs  upon  the 
soft  bed  of  pine  twigs  and  looked  out  upon  the 
grassy  plain  softly  shimmering  in  the  moonlight  on 
that  mesa  park.  There  had  been  many  delays  to  his 
purpose  to  redeem  the  wild  Apache  peoples  from 
barbarism ;  but  the  courage  of  a  God-given  mission 
had  repeatedly  swept  away  the  opposition  which 
selfishness  and  jealousy  in  the  hearts  of  his  country- 
men had  raised  before  him.  and  he  had  made  steady 
progress  from  year  to  year  in  his  far-reaching 
enterprises.  The  Navajos  were  a  shrewd  and  crafty 
people.  They  had  jealously  guarded  against  the 
incursions  of  white  men  into  their  extended  country, 


Off  the  Trail 

for  they  knew  the  covetousness  of  American  fron- 
tiersmen, as  well  as  of  the  Spanish  colonists.  They 
had  yielded  to  the  power  of  the  United  States 
government  in  successive  defeats,  but  they  were 
armed  for  vigilant  repulsion  of  the  settler,  the  miner, 
and  the  missionary  who  should  attempt  to  gain 
foothold  in  their  territory,  which  was  five  times  as 
large  as  one  of  the  more  important  states  that  a 
New  England  pioneer  would  leave  to  try  his  for- 
tunes in  the  Southwest. 

Redford  had  now  penetrated  these  rarely  visited 
Indian  wilds  in  Arizona,  and  attempted  to  conquer 
the  inveterate  prejudice  of  tradition  and  the  personal 
hostility  of  the  crafty  medicine  men  so  powerful  in 
their  tribes. 

His  purpose  was  to  educate  their  youth.  A  few 
had  been  rescued  by  other  pioneers  in  these  educa- 
tional efforts,  but,  returning  to  their  tribes  in  the 
garb  of  American  youth,  and  with  notions  of  a  dif- 
ferent life  from  their  fathers,  had  been  hated  as 
aliens  from  the  traditions  and  honor  of  their  people. 

Most  of  them  had  been  discouraged  and  returned 
to  the  ways  of  their  tribe.  A  few  had  turned  their 
skill  to  the  acquisition  of  larger  herds  of  horses,  and 
other  pastoral  wealth.  More  had  fallen  into  the 
vices  of  gambling,  or  taken  up  the  crafts  of  necro- 
mancy with  the  increased  skill  which  education  had 
imparted.  Still,  there  was  leaven  working  among 
the  people,  and  a  few  of  the  principal  men  were  dis- 
posed to  try  the  methods  of  the  white  man  in  agri- 
culture and  in  building  permanent  abodes. 

7 


Chunda 

Here  and  there  a  log  cabin  had  been  erected,  but 
on  account  of  their  customs  of  death  and  burial, 
which  denied  forever  the  use  of  the  hogan  of  the 
deceased  if  he  had  occupied  it  to  the  last  breath, 
some  of  these  new  cabins  were  filled  with  terrors, 
and  for  this  reason  many  of  them  had  been  deserted. 

But  it  had  been  found  that  whoever  had  built  a 
cabin  had  first  learned  the  use  of  tools.  One  inno- 
vation had  led  to  another,  and  the  medicine  men 
were  alarmed.  To  recover  their  hold  upon  the 
wavering  they  had  determined  on  a  grander  display 
of  barbaric  custom  and  array  than  usual.  They  had 
persuaded  a  devotee  to  their  craft  to  summon  the 
medicine  men  and  their  tribe  far  and  near  to  a  dance 
for  the  relief  of  a  long-standing  malady,  and  the 
call  had  gone  out  throughout  the  tribe  to  assemble 
in  great  numbers  at  Chin-a-li. 

Into  the  midst  of  this  assembly  Redford  had 
determined  to  go  alone,  braving  whatever  dangers 
he  might  meet.  Taking  only  a  guide,  he  had 
engaged  an  interpreter  to  meet  him  at  the  great 
dance  which  had  been  announced. 

The  cry  of  the  coyotes  around  his  strange  and 
lonely  bed  that  night  reminded  him  of  the  evil- 
minded  Navajos  that  might  have  followed  his  trail 
from  the  agency.  But  the  inspiring  air  of  a  clear 
September  night  dispelled  doubts  and  fears,  and  he 
closed  his  eyes  to  rest  with  a  confidence  that  his  way 
was  guarded  by  One  who  would  make  it  clear  in  the 
light  of  another  day. 


CHAPTER  II 

HOT-SI 

The  night  had  sped  on  over  the  undisturbed 
sleeper  toward  the  earhest  flush  of  a  clear  September 
morning,  when  Redford  awoke  to  find  himself 
apparently  alone.  Neither  guide  nor  horses  were  in 
sight ;  but  there  was  a  strange  feeling,  perhaps  from 
a  dream,  that  someone  was  watching  him.  Slightly 
turning  his  head,  he  saw  not  far  off  a  young  Navajo 
about  eighteen  years  old,  who,  with  rifle  in  hand 
for  instant  use,  fixed  on  Redford  a  cunning  but  not 
hostile  eye,  while  he  keenly  w^atched  every  move- 
ment. 

Redford  remained  quietly  stretched  upon  the 
ground  without  betraying  any  sign  of  fear  or  sur- 
prise. He  had  learned  in  his  life  among  the  Apaches 
that  courage  was  the  best  protection  from  their 
violence  and  commanded  the  respect  of  the  savage, 
who  is  really  brave  only  when  he  has  advantage  over 
his  foes  or,  like  brutes,  when  brought  to  bay. 

The  Navajo  w^aited  till  Redford  slowly  rose  half- 
way to  his  feet  and  looked  around  for  the  guide, 
who  w^as  still  beyond  sight.  Then  he  pointed  to  the 
open  ground  with  a  sign  which  the  Navajo  under- 
stood. Turning  to  the  buckboard,  on  the  pole  of 
which  the  harnesses  were  lying,  the  young  hunter 
looked  toward  a  ridge  beyond  the  plain,  and  indi- 

9 


CHUNDA 

cated  the  direction  which  Parker,  the  guide,  had 
taken  in  search  of  the  stray  horses. 

This  friendly  act  quieted  whatever  of  alarm 
existed  in  Redford,  who  tossed  a  small  bag  of 
tobacco  toward  the  Navajo  and  waited  his  next 
movement.  He  slowly  picked  this  peace  offering 
from  the  ground  and,  with  a  smile,  put  it  into  the 
fold  of  his  blanket ;  then,  approaching  the  smoking 
embers  of  the  camp  fire,  sat  down  by  the  side  of  this 
white  stranger.  Taking  out  a  strip  of  dry  corn  husk 
from  his  buckskin  wallet,  he  rolled  a  cigarette,  while 
Redford,  handing  to  him  a  live  brand,  pointed  to  a 
distant  trail  and  said : 

"Chin-a-li?" 

As  the  Navajo  rose  and  with  outstretched  arm 
showed  the  direction  of  the  Canon  de  Chelly  there 
was  a  brightening  of  his  eyes  from  a  sense  of  being 
trusted  by  the  white  man. 

Confident  that  the  young  Indian  would  in  some 
way  open  a  way  to  the  hearts  of  his  tribe,  Redford 
took  a  more  deliberate  survey  of  his  new  acquaint- 
ance. The  Navajo  was  tall  and  slender,  with  com- 
pact shoulders,  his  ruddy  skin  clear  and  dark.  His 
broad  head,  with  straight  black  hair  parted  in  the 
middle  and  bound  by  a  red  and  white  figured  cotton 
kerchief,  had  a  face  typically  Indian,  but  his  large 
mouth  and  brilliant  eyes  combined  intelligence  with 
shrewdness  and  a  kind  disposition. 

He  wore  light-colored  moccasins,  topped  with 
leggins  to  the  knees  and  fastened  there  with  finely 
woven  red  and  yellow  bands.     Above  these  hung 

10 


Hot-si 

loose  short  trousers  of  faded  yellow  cotton;  and  a 
coarse  Navajo  blanket  with  red,  blue  and  yellow 
stripes  was  gathered  over  the  shoulders  and  fastened 
in  folds  around  the  waist. 

Beneath  this  could  be  seen  a  belt  of  Winchester 
cartridges,  a  leather  purse,  and  the  tip  of  a  hunting 
case  hanging  at  his  left  side.  Two  limp  coyote 
skins  fastened  to  his  belt  hung  behind.  They  had 
been  taken  evidently  in  yesterday's  hunting. 

Redford  recognized  beneath  his  freshly  painted 
cheeks  a  face  which  he  had  noticed  in  the  agency 
at  Fort  Defiance  two  days  before.  It  was  Hot-si,  a 
youth  famous  already  as  a  hunter  and  a  worthy  suc- 
cessor to  his  father,  Ha-tsi-niniski,  a  Navajo  chief 
and  recognized  leader  of  about  three  thousand  of 
the  tribe  frequenting  the  region  around  the  Canon 
de  Chelly. 

As  Redford  and  the  youth  smoked  in  silence  their 
thoughts  were  far  differently  measuring  the  strange 
causes  of  their  meeting.  To  Redford  it  was  the 
friendly  aid  of  Heaven  to  enable  him  to  reach  the 
great  assembly  of  the  Navajos  before  they  were 
scattered  again  among  their  hogans.  He  hummed 
a  line  of  a  hymn  which  he  had  sung  in  his  boyhood, 
and  looked  out  again  upon  the  open  ground  for 
some  sign  of  the  stray  horses.  There  was  one  of 
them  just  leaving  the  edge  of  the  woods  half  a  mile 
away.  Seizing  a  bridle,  he  started  toward  the  horse, 
knowing  that  his  mate  would  be  near  him.  A  faint 
call  came  over  the  ridge  as  he  approached  it,  and 
he  perceived  Parker  leading  the  other  horse. 


CHUNDA 

As  tlic  guide  approached  the  fire,  upon  which  had 
been  piled  dried  pinon  knots  which  w^ere  cheerfully 
blazing  in  the  cliilly  autumn  air,  he  discovered  the 
Navajo  with  evident  relief,  for  he  had  been  unable 
to  locate  the  camp,  so  far  had  they  wandered  from 
the  trail.  He  had  met  the  young  hunter  at  Fort 
Defiance,  and  was  soon  in  friendly  conversation 
with  him  in  Navajo,  of  which  he  knew  the  common- 
est phrases  and  the  words  needed  in  trading;  but 
he  was  not  pleased  to  learn  that  it  would  take  the 
greater  part  of  the  day  to  regain  the  wagon  road 
and  reach  the  mouth  of  the  Chelly  Canon. 

A  piece  of  cold  bread  with  jelly  and  a  bit  of  jerked 
beef  with  a  cup  of  water  made  up  their  scanty  break- 
fast, but  it  was  shared  w4th  Hot-si,  who  had  mean- 
while been  giving  them  some  desired  information 
as  to  the  purpose  of  and  principal  actors  in  the 
great  dance  that  w^as  to  take  place  that  evening. 
Having  promised  to  meet  them  at  Chin-a-li,  the 
hunter  disappeared  over  the  edge  of  the  gorge  upon 
which,  in  the  darkness  of  the  preceding  night,  they 
had  driven  with  such  peril. 

The  horses  had  finished  their  corn,  and  the  buck- 
board  was  carefully  packed  for  a  still  rougher  jour- 
ney than  yesterday.  To  drive  across  the  w'ooded 
ridge  without  a  trail,  to  lift  the  wagon  over  the 
bowlders  and  tree  trunks,  and  to  restrain  the  plung- 
ing animals,  fretted  by  their  uncertain  footholds  in 
the  loose  rocks,  occupied  two  anxious  hours ;  but 
the  brilliant  sunlight  illumined  the  shaded  wagon 
trail,    which    was    at    last    reached,    and    made    a 

12 


HOT-Sl 

strangely  interesting  journey  through  the  mountain 
park. 

An  hour  before  noon  the  buckboard  was  on  the 
edge  of  another  gorge  leading  into  the  Chelly  Canon, 
whose  red  and  yellow  sides  had  been  occasionally 
seen  from  open  points  on  the  trail  ten  miles  away. 

Redford  leaped  from  the  wagon  to  look  down  the 
precipice  at  his  feet,  and  through  this  cleft  of  the 
mesa  into  the  main  canon,  which  his  field  glass 
brought  near.  Massive  walls,  with  bright  colors 
at  the  top  deepening  to  dark  shadows  toward  the 
bottom  of  the  gorge,  rose  to  a  height  of  eight  hun- 
dred feet.  A  shining  stream  with  sandy  edges  was 
winding  about  their  base.  From  its  rippling  water 
stretched  a  vivid  spot  of  green  meadow  and  a  culti- 
vated patch  of  maize  and  bush  beans  into  a  rincon 
opposite.  A  tree  of  some  kind  was  growing  from 
the  bank  of  the  stream,  and  a  jagged,  precipitous 
gorge  led  from  where  he  stood  down  to  this  first 
glimpse  into  the  region  of  the  most  ancient  cliff 
dwellers  of  Arizona,  so  often  pictured  in  Redford's 
dreams. 

It  was  yet  a  long  drive  of  five  hours  by  the  trail 
to  Chin-a-li.  About  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
their  road  led  out  to  the  top  of  the  caiion,  from 
which,  for  more  than  two  miles,  the  trail  made  a 
winding  descent,  often  on  bare  rock,  a  thousand  feet 
down  the  steep  sides.  At  a  point  five  hundred  feet 
from  the  bottom,  where  the  canon  made  a  turn,  the 
travelers  looked  down  upon  a  novel  scene. 

A  sandy  plain  a  mile  and  a  half  wide  extended 
13 


ClIUNDA 

between  the  low,  black,  rocky  bluffs  which  consti- 
tuted the  mouth  of  the  Chelly  Canon.  Beyond  these 
massive  portals  to  the  gorge  on  the  right  flowed  the 
stream  of  the  Chelly  out  upon  a  broader  plain,  which 
reached  to  the  Carizo  Mountains,  rising  in  five  suc- 
cessive terraces  to  a  height  of  eight  thousand  feet, 
where  these  mesas  became  jagged  and  bare  of  trees. 

Along  this  stream  for  three  or  four  miles  could 
be  seen  cornfields  with  stalks  still  standing,  among 
which  were  shining  heaps  of  brilliantly  colored  ears 
of  corn,  near  to  the  scattered  hogans  of  the  Navajo 
families  who  tilled  the  plain. 

But  the  nearer  sights  in  the  basin  of  Chin-a-li  at 
once  filled  the  heart  of  the  missionary  with  strange 
emotions.  Fifteen  hundred  Navajos  were  already 
gathered  upon  this  nearer  plain  in  front  of  a  solitary 
trading  post  which  stood  beneath  the  black  bluff. 
They  were  mostly  on  horseback  and  riding  restlessly 
from  one  place  to  another,  or  standing  in  groups 
near  booths  of  oak  branches  which  had  been  hastily 
erected  as  the  central  point  for  their  games  and 
dances. 

A  group  of  tw^o  or  three  hundred  were  intently 
v^atching  a  peculiar  game  where  a  dozen  youths 
were  guiding  hoops  over  an  open  space  with  long 
poles  decked  with  strips  of  colored  deerskin.  Others 
farther  away  were  gathered  for  a  horse  race,  and 
at  two  points  the  crowd  w^ere  betting  as  patrons  of 
the  rival  ponies.  Clearly  outlined  against  the  west- 
ern sky  w^ere  twenty  or  thirty  Navajos  on  foot  or 
sitting  motionless  on  their  horses,  and  on  the  distant 

14 


Hot-si 

trails  stragglers  could  be  seen  urging  their  ponies 
toward  the  level  stretch  chosen  for  the  race. 

Redford  was  by  nature  sensitive  to  the  effect  of 
color  and  motion,  and  he  gazed  with  intense  enjoy- 
ment upon  the  picture  in  living  forms  thus  suddenly 
brought  to  his  view.  With  a  fervent  desire  to  per- 
petuate it  on  canvas  with  an  artist's  skill,  he  gathered 
the  whole  scene  into  his  vision — the  restless  moving 
mass  in  the  center,  the  statuelike  figures  of  horsemen 
and  horses  on  the  bluffs  or  scattered  over  the  plain, 
the  eddying  circles  of  riders  gathering  into  groups, 
the  lithe-limbed  youth  at  their  games,  the  multitude 
in  gay  colors  of  Navajo  blankets,  loose  cotton 
trousers  flapping  in  the  wind,  and  the  dark  back- 
ground of  low-lying  bluffs  encircling  the  sandy  plain 
in  which  these  living  figures  appeared  in  bright  and 
clear  relief  under  the  brilliant  sky.  The  momentary 
delirium  of  his  senses  passed  away,  and  Redford's 
heart  kindled  with  a  new  impulse  to  accomplish  his 
high  purpose. 

But  to  descend  into  this  plain  among  two  thou- 
sand lawless  barbarians  and  be  the  only  white  man, 
save  his  guide  and  the  post  trader,  in  the  midst 
of  this  savage  life  was,  for  the  moment,  appalling. 
There  was  no  retreat  now,  for  the  buckboard  had 
been  seen  on  the  cliff,  and  an  unhesitating  advance 
was  the  only  course  to  take.  A  half-hour's  descent 
over  the  smooth  ledges  was  accomplished  with  more 
fear  of  the  perils  which  every  step  of  the  horses 
seemed  to  increase  than  of  the  reception  awaiting 
them  below.    As  the  travelers  drove  up  to  the  trad- 

15 


CllUNDA 

ing  post  hundreds  of  curious  Navajos  surrounded 
the  carriage,  clamoring  for  tobacco  which  the  post 
trader  had  promised  should  come  with  the  next 
arrival  from  the  agency. 

Redford  had  a  good  stock  of  it  in  his  knapsack, 
and  as  he  leaped  to  the  ground  threw  a  few  packages 
to  the  crowd  as  a  peace  offering,  which  at  once  set 
the  Indians  in  good  humor  with  the  stranger. 


i6 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    RACES 

Ha-tsi-niniski,  the  chief  of  the  Navajos  near 
the  Tunicha  Mountains,  had  been  informed  by  the 
interpreter  of  Redford's  errand  from  Washington 
and  greeted  him  with  respect  as  the  representative 
of  the  government.  With  a  cordial  reply  Redford 
took  the  chief's  hand  and  returned  the  friendly 
embrace,  a  courtesy  which  the  Apache  and  Pueblo 
Indians  of  the  Southwest  readily  extend  to  those 
whom  they  regard  with  favor. 

Through  the  interpreter  Redford  asked  permis- 
sioti  to  speak  to  the  people,  and  was  promised  an 
opportunity  an  hour  before  sundown,  when  the 
great  dance  would  begin.  The  chieftain  then  invited 
his  guest  to  view  the  games  and  races,  and  after  a 
simple  meal  in  the  post  trader's  tent,  and  a  refresh- 
ing of  his  sunburnt  face  in  the  cool  waters  of  the 
Chelly,  Redford  prepared  himself  to  mingle  with 
the  crowd  in  their  diversions. 

But  as  he  looked  out  from  the  trading  post  upon 
the  restless  throngs  in  their  strange  garb  he  con- 
trasted them  with  similar  gatherings  of  his  own 
people  when  met  for  country  fairs  and  on  the  race 
courses  or  on  athletic  game  grounds.  The  same  love 
of  play  and  excitement  was  then  displayed  by  edu- 
cated or  well-dressed  working  people  as  by  these 

17 


CilUNDA 

children  of  nature,  who  seemed  to  have  no  care  nor 
thought  beyond  the  sport  of  the  hour,  the  owner- 
ship of  their  horses  decked  with  silver-mounted 
bridles  and  saddles,  and  the  gayly  colored  blankets 
which  hung  gracefully  over  their  shoulders,  or  the 
gaudy  trinkets  and  paints  that  adorned  their  arms, 
necks  and  faces. 

"All  the  world  is  kin,"  he  exclaimed  as  he  glanced 
around  to  find  some  w^ay  across  the  barriers  of 
speech  and  custom  that  separated  him  from  this 
people.  "Shall  these  handsome  savages  live  and 
die  in  the  midst  of  our  nation,  which  is  proud  of  its 
civilization  and  religion,  and  yet  shall  they  never 
know  a  higher  life  than  this?  Amusement  is  the 
end  of  their  lives,  excitement  is  their  religion,  their 
worship  is  the  basest  superstition.  Yet  how  little 
do  they  differ  in  their  enjoyments  from  myriads  of 
my  owai  countrymen  who  arrogantly  or  sneeringly 
pretend  to  say  that  the  Indian  is  less  than  human, 
and  has  neither  mental  capacity  nor  moral  character 
worth  saving  to  humankind.  These  people  are 
ignorant  and  out  of  the  way,"  he  sighed.  "Cannot 
someone  lead  them  to  an  intelligent  and  industrious 
life,  from  which,  perhaps,  in  centuries  past,  their 
ancestors  have  fallen?  Is  their  deliverer  to  come 
from  another  race,  or  is  he  standing  here  among  his 
own,  whom  they  know  not,  some  youth  upon  whom 
the  heavenly  Father  has  set  his  mark,  to  reveal  in 
coming  years  on  some  Jordan's  bank  by  a  baptism 
of  suffering?" 

As  Redford  slowly  walked  down  the  plain,  toward 


The  Races 

the  throng  where  it  was  thickest  and  noisiest,  he 
noticed  with  how  httle  rudeness  of  gaze  he  was 
regarded  by  the  groups  he  passed. 

"They  have  at  least  a  native  courtesy,"  he  said,  in 
low  tones,  "which  forbids  them  to  stare.  How 
unlike  our  American  crowds!" 

The  rudest  neither  giggled  nor  jeered  at  the 
stranger  so  unlike  them  in  dress  and  appearance. 
The  Apache  is  cruel  and  merciless,  but  in  peaceful 
intercourse  with  a  stranger  he  is  seldom  rude  in 
speech  or  manner. 

The  crowd  of  Navajos  was  now  extending  out 
upon  the  plain  preparing  for  the  race.  Quietly 
passing  through  the  motley  group  where  they  were 
most  intent,  Redford  discovered  that  two  horses 
with  their  riders  were  the  subject  of  their  discus- 
sion. There  were  no  loud  or  heated  words,  but 
everyone — man,  woman,  or  child — was  individually 
a  judge  of  the  favorite.  They  were  betting  on  the 
result,  but  there  was  no  delivery  of  their  stakes. 
The  owner  of  each  horse  was  apparently  betting 
against  the  crowd,  who  carried  behind  their  sad- 
dles, as  their  pledges,  rolls  of  cotton,  fruits  and 
various  articles  of  merchandise.  Some  had  saddle 
blankets,  bridles  and  tanned  skins  of  the  mountain 
lion  hanging  from  their  belts  or  saddles,  which  they 
were  offering  to  wager  on  the  competing  horses. 
These  stood  side  by  side  on  the  plain,  a  gray  and  a 
sorrel,  with  only  a  tightly  girthed  saddle  blanket 
on  their  backs,  and  riders  whose  long  hair  was  con- 
fined by  a  narrow  red  band  around  their  brows. 

19 


ClIUNDA 

As  they  slowly  trotted  out  to  the  starting  place, 
half  a  mile  away,  another,  but  smaller,  group  of 
mounted  Navajos  waited  to  receive  them,  and  the 
crowd  drew  out,  leaving  a  long  lane  of  horses'  heads 
intermingled  with  spectators  on  foot,  close  to  the 
line  where  the  race  was  to  be  run. 

Redford  took  a  place  as  near  as  possible  to  the 
finish,  straining  w-ith  the  eager  Navajos  to  command 
a  sight  of  the  long  vista,  brightly  bordered  with 
color  from  the  blankets  and  trousers  of  the  men 
and  the  glistening  trappings  of  their  horses. 

There  were  no  false  starts  in  this  race.  At  a 
word  the  horses  leaped  the  line  and  entered  upon  a 
full  gallop.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  Apache  heart 
finds,  on  such  occasions,  the  same  expression  as  the 
white  man's.  The  cheers  and  shrill  cries  of  the 
distant  Navajos  rolled  on  ahead  of  the  flying  horses 
toward  the  spot  where  Redford  stood.  The  white 
sand  began  to  rise  in  thin  wavy  clouds.  These  wild 
horses  of  the  plain  spurned  them  with  feet  lifted 
high  and  dashed  forward  as  if  they  caught  the 
inspiration  of  a  thousand  comrades  looking  on,  wath 
whom  they  had  scoured  the  plains  under  the  cloud- 
less skies  above  yonder  lofty  mesas. 

The  shouts  increased  in  volume  as  they  neared 
the  finish,  and  the  cheers  of  Navajos  closing  in 
behind  them  joined  the  roar  of  those  who  stood  at 
the  goal  to  greet  them,  and  nerved  the  riders  to  the 
last  spurt  to  win. 

With  streaming  hair  and  savage  yells  they  seemed 
to  be  the  incarnated  spirits  of  the  leaping,  panting, 


The  Races 

wiry-limbed  horses  as  they  rushed  past  and  cleared 
the  narrowing  space  between  them  and  the  lariats 
stretched  across  the  track  on  the  sand.  The  sorrel 
leaped  the  bound  by  half  a  length  ahead,  and  the 
crowd  closed  around  the  narrow  space  where  two 
stalwart  judges  stood  to  give  their  decision  with- 
out dispute  or  delay. 

There  upon  the  ground  at  the  feet  of  the  winner's 
owner  the  Navajos  flung  down  their  pledges,  mak- 
ing upon  the  sand  a  motley  heap  of  skins  and  belts 
and  hunting  knives  and  bolts  of  cloth,  and  then  they 
silently  rode  away  in  squads  or  singly  toward  the 
trading  post,  or  in  an  opposite  direction  to  the 
eastern  edge  of  the  plain. 

Word  had  been  given  by  the  chief  to  assemble  at 
the  post  to  hear  a  message  from  the  Great  Father  at 
Washington.  Redford  could  not  understand  the 
dispersion  of  the  greater  portion  of  the  Navajos, 
but  the  interpreter  had  disappeared  and  he  could 
make  no  inquiry  as  to  their  departure. 

He  was  not  a  man  to  be  easily  disturbed  by  their 
apparent  indifference.  He  began  to  reflect  upon  the 
message  which  was  of  so  much  importance  to  the 
accomplishment  of  the  purpose  of  his  long  and 
somewhat  perilous  journey.  He  was  to  address  a 
people  whose  words  he  could  not  understand,  and 
whose  hearts  he  could  not  read.  He  knew,  however, 
that  he  was  to  strike  at  the  deepest  and  strongest 
prejudices  of  the  most  influential  members  of  the 
tribe.  His  art  of  persuasion  would  be  lost  in  the 
double  interpreting  which  his  words  would  have — 


Chunda 

first  into  Spanish,  by  which  they  were  to  be  told  to 
the  chief,  and  then  through  that  perhaps  unfriendly 
mind  to  these  Indians  in  their  own  barbarous  speech. 
The  fewest  words,  the  briefest  and  clearest  descrip- 
tions of  what  the  President  wished  for  them,  and 
what  his  own  thoughts  had  planned  for  this  people, 
would,  perhaps,  be  scarcely  recognizable  in  their 
last  utterance  as  translated  by  Ha-tsi-niniski. 

He  now  understood  the  fatal  misunderstandings 
in  all  the  conferences  of  Indian  commissioners  and 
in  the  treaties  of  the  government  with  the  tribes, 
w'hich  had  baffled  good  intentions  and  destroyed  the 
confidence  of  the  American  Indians  in  that  govern- 
ment, to  which,  in  their  straightforward  way,  they 
had  so  often  appealed  in  vain  for  justice  and  kind- 
ness. 

Yet  he  turned  hopefully  back  to  the  trading 
post,  where  two  or  three  hundred  Navajo  men  and 
women  were  sitting  on  their  horses  or  standing 
dismounted  in  expectation  of  his  address ;  or  perhaps 
of  friendly  gifts  from  Washington;  and  when  his 
approach  was  noticed  many  of  the  Navajos  came 
nearer  to  him  from  down  the  overhanging  bluffs  and 
from  the  vicinity  of  the  booths  upon  the  plain. 


CHAPTER  IV 

HUT-TAH 

The  September  sun  was  still  an  hour  above  the 
western  mesas  as  Redford  climbed  to  the  roof  of  the 
store  whither  the  chief  and  the  interpreter  had  pre- 
ceded him.  The  reddening  rays  gave  an  intensified 
wildness  to  the  scene.  Beneath  him  was  the  sway- 
ing crowd  of  Navajos,  largely  composed  of  squaws 
who  sat  astride  their  horses,  clothed  in  their 
brightly  colored  blankets  and  dark  woven  skirts. 
Their  black  hair,  gathered  in  plaits  on  the  back  of 
their  heads,  was  uncovered,  and  their  faces  stained 
with  less  vivid  colors  than  the  men's.  Far  out  upon 
the  open  plain,  half  a  mile  away,  was  the  greater 
multitude  all  mounted  and  evidently  preparing  for 
some  concerted  action. 

A  shrill  call  from  the  chief  aroused  the  attention 
of  the  people  near  him.  After  a  few  words  in 
Navajo  to  them  from  Ha-tsi-niniski  they  turned 
their  eyes  eagerly  upon  Redford,  to  whom  the  chief 
made  a  dignified  motion  with  his  hand. 

Rising  to  his  feet,  Redford  first  presented  a  let- 
ter of  introduction  from  the  agent  of  the  Navajos 
to  the  chief.  The  interpreter  was  bidden  to  read 
it.  This  young  Navajo,  educated  at  the  Carlisle 
School,  readily  translated  it  in  a  clear  voice,  and 
then  turned  to  Redford  with  a  request  from  the 

22> 


ClIUNDA 

chieftain  that  he  should  tell  the  people  what  was  in 
his  heart. 

A  quick  glance  revealed  to  the  speaker  that  sev- 
eral of  the  foremost  principal  men  of  the  tribe  were 
near  to  watch  his  words  and  every  expression  of  his 
face.  Among  them  were  Maitzo  and  Etsah,  sons 
of  the  head  chief,  Manuelito,  and  many  intelligent- 
looking  squaws  who  had  ridden  nearer  to  the  post 
as  he  rose  to  his  feet,  and  were  listening  intently 
to  the  reading  of  the  letter. 

Redford  well  knew  that  his  intended  plea  for  the 
education  of  their  youth  and  the  gradual  civiliza- 
tion of  the  wdiole  tribe  would  not  only  encounter 
the  barrier  of  their  customs,  but  that  a  direct  and 
violent  opposition  would  at  once  arise  to  his  argu- 
ments and  even  to  his  presence  among  this  bar- 
barous people.  As  he  looked  down  upon  the 
strange  assembly  below  him  and  out  upon  the  plain, 
he  thought  he  already  saw  signs  of  resistance  to 
him  that  were  designed  to  turn  these  wild-faced 
riders  against  him  and  break  up  the  conference 
in  the  confusion  which  their  acts  of  hostility  would 
produce. 

The  eager  gaze  of  the  principal  men  scattered 
among  the  crowd,  the  defiant  faces  of  some  of  the 
more  noticeable  women,  who  he  knew  in  every 
Apache  tribe  exerted  a  powerful  influence,  and  the 
anxious  expression  in  the  countenances  of  others 
who  seemed  to  be  kindly  disposed  toward  him,  be- 
tokened a  decided  opposition  near  at  hand.  The 
ominous  gathering  of  more  than  a  thousand  men 

24 


HUT-TAH 

and  women,  whose  massive  array  he  could  plainly 
see  at  the  eastern  edge  of  Chin-a-li,  deepened  his 
conviction,  and  aroused  his  courage,  at  the  same 
time,  to  a  bold  but  persuasive  appeal  to  those  who 
would  listen  to  him. 

All  eyes  were  upon  him  now  as  he  began  to  speak 
of  the  Great  Father's  kind  thoughts  for  his  chil- 
dren, and  for  their  protection  and  welfare,  who 
now  gave  his  greetings  of  goodwill  and  counsel 
to  them  by  the  messenger  standing  before  them. 
He  told  them  of  other  tribes  of  the  great  Apache 
family  to  which  the  Navajos  belonged  who  had 
listened  to  advice  and  sent  their  children  to  the 
schools  provided  for  them;  of  the  deeper  interest 
of  the  Great  Father  and  of  Congress  in  their  wel- 
fare because  of  the  efforts  of  these  tribes  to  become 
like  the  white  man  in  wisdom  and  in  their  manner 
of  living.  They  had  houses  and  fields  which  they 
individually  owned,  and  in  the  cultivation  of  which 
they  took  an  honest  pride  and  pleasure. 

Then  Redford  showed  them  what  that  education 
was  by  photographs  of  the  pupils,  of  the  school 
buildings  and  of  the  work  they  had  done.  He  told 
them  of  the  arts  of  home  life  which  they  had  learned. 
Here  in  these  pictures  were  their  houses,  their 
schools,  their  churches,  their  stacks  of  grain  and 
heaps  of  vegetables  and  fruits  on  the  fields  they 
had  cultivated.  Their  children  were  pictured  at 
play  in  American  dresses.  Their  parents  were  work- 
ing in  the  field,  in  barns,  in  stockyards.  They  had 
sawmills  and  flour  mills  on  their  lands,  blacksmith 

25 


Chunda 

shops  upon  whose  forges  fires  were  glowing.  They 
had  basket  factories  and  canneries  beside  their 
orchards,  mowing  machines  and  horserakes  at  work 
in  their  meadows,  and  yet  these  Navajos  could  see 
that  the  toilers  so  gladly  at  work  were  of  their  own 
race  and  countenance.  Thus  mingling  illustrations 
with  simple  speech.  Redford  grew  eager  in  his  plea 
and  fretted  at  its  slow  translation  from  English  to 
Spanish  and  thence  by  Apache  words  to  the  compre- 
hension of  his  hearers. 

But  as  he  turned  his  face  toward  the  east  his 
heart  sank  within  him  at  the  sight  of  a  great  move- 
ment in  the  distant  mass  of  riders,  which  had 
already  diverted  the  attention  of  those  around  him. 
The  crimsoned  light  of  the  sun,  low  in  the  horizon, 
was  falling  upon  the  most  stirring  sight  he  had  wit- 
nessed since  he  left  the  plains  of  Virginia  in  the 
midst  of  the  great  civil  war. 

A  thousand  Navajos  were  sweeping  like  a  whirl- 
wind across  the  plain  toward  him  at  the  swiftest 
speed  of  their  infuriated  horses.  Men  and  women, 
with  their  black  hair  and  brilliant  garments  stream- 
ing in  the  wind,  were  making  a  wild  race  which 
tested  to  the  utmost  a  thousand  strong-limbed  ponies 
and  the  fearless  riding  of  their  masters.  Clouds  of 
dust  arose  around  them.  In  the  crush,  as  they  came 
toward  the  goal,  men  and  women  were  hurled  from 
their  horses,  but  there  was  scarcely  a  break  in  the 
mass  which  eddied  around  them.  Then  the  fleetest 
began  to  forge  ahead  and  drew  out  in  an  irregular, 
wedge-shaped  line.     Its  symmetry  was  soon  lost  as 

26 


HUT-TAH 

at  intervals  a  score  of  riders  took  the  lead,  while 
thundering  behind  was  the  mass  of  flashing  color 
in  quick  motion,  their  silver  ornaments  and  rifles 
glistening  with  a  reddish  hue,  and  coming  near  to 
the  post. 

Redford  had  involuntarily  ceased  to  speak  to  the 
people,  and  was  gazing  now  with  admiration  upon 
the  bewildering  scene.  It  was  the  rallying  of  bar- 
baric force  and  display  to  kindle  the  passions  of 
these  hearts  for  their  ancestral  life  and  customs, 
and  to  withstand  the  new  ideas  which  were  appeal- 
ing, not  feebly,  to  their  ambition  and  pride. 

He  watched  the  Navajos  as  they  rode  their  pant- 
ing horses  slowly  from  the  goal  to  join  the  assembly 
beneath  him,  and  then  made  a  last  appeal  for 
brotherhood  with  the  white  man  in  the  life  of  the 
great  American  nation : 

"Navajos !  You  have  sometimes  seen,  from  yon- 
der mesa,  the  waters  of  this  silvery  stream  near  us, 
rolling  more  and  more  swiftly  down  that  caiion  and 
flowing  out  with  great  depth  upon  these  plains.  You 
have  seen  them  carrying  away  the  maize,  the  hogans, 
the  fruit  trees  that  your  fathers  planted  in  these  rin- 
cons  and  on  these  banks.  So  is  the  white  man.  He 
is  coming  like  a  gathering  stream  from  the  far  East, 
but  a  mighty  flood  of  people  is  behind  the  white 
man  whom  you  see,  as  was  the  vast  lake  behind  the 
mountains  in  your  tradition  when  the  Navajo  god 
tore  the  lofty  mesa  apart  and  made  a  way  through 
this  lofty  Caiion  de  Chelly  for  the  floods  to  sweep 
down  and  out  upon  yonder  great  plain. 

27 


Chunda 

"Navajos!  The  white  men  are  the  flood.  You 
must  not,  Hke  that  frail  hogan  or  those  booths  of 
branches,  try  to  resist  the  mighty  stream.  Give  up 
the  customs  of  your  tribe;  join  your  hves  with  the 
white  people.  Become  like  them  in  your  homes  and 
your  pleasures.  Work  with  your  hands  like  them 
and  gather  comforts  and  riches  around  you.  Learn 
the  white  man's  wisdom  and  skill  of  hand.  Let  your 
children  be  taught  in  schools  as  are  his,  and  worship 
his  God,  the  Father  of  us  all,  who  hath  given  us 
everlasting  life  by  his  Son.  Then  shall  your  lives 
be  like  the  spring  waters  and  the  rains  in  the  summer 
to  this  land.  The  flood  will  not  carry  you  away, 
but,  like  the  peach  orchards  in  the  caiion  above  us, 
they  shall  be  planted  by  the  rivers  whose  leaf  does 
not  wither  and  whose  fruit  fails  not." 

The  meaning  of  Redford's  words  slowly  reached, 
through  the  two  interpreters,  the  Navajos,  who 
increased  to  a  great  throng  around  him. 

There  was  a  commotion  as  two  or  three  tried  to 
ride  near  to  the  trading  post  and  make  reply.  Fore- 
most was  Hut-tah,  who  imperiously  urged  her  horse 
to  the  front  and  waved  her  hand  to  those  behind 
her,  saying  to  the  chief  that  she  wished  to  say  a 
word  to  the  messenger  from  Washington. 

Redford  turned  to  see  this  famous  woman  of  the 
tribe.  She  was  strongly  built,  with  broad  shoulders 
and  a  stout,  muscular  body  which,  as  she  sat  erect, 
gave  at  first  the  impression  of  a  masculine  charac- 
ter. A  deep  blue  blanket  striped  with  yellow  hung 
across  her  bosom,  fastened  at  the  right  shoulder 

28 


HUT-TAH 

with  a  silver  spangle.  Her  neck  and  left  shoulder 
were  bare.  A  closely  woven  woolen  skirt  reached 
to  the  top  of  white  deerskin  leggins  which  ended 
with  moccasins  covering  her  small  feet. 

Hut-tah,  lifting  one  arm  and  pointing  to  Red- 
ford,  with  a  clear  voice  addressed  him  in  Navajo 
speech,  and  her  words  were  directly  interpreted  to 
him  as  she  spoke : 

"The  Navajos  who  hear  me  have  had  many  words 
of  advice  from  the  Great  Father  before  this  man 
spoke  to  us.  AVe  feel  kindly  toward  the  Great 
Father.  We  have  often  prospered  by  doing  what 
he  has  told  us  to  do.  We  have  raised  more  sheep 
and  horses.  We  have  sold  our  wool  and  blankets. 
We  have  produced  more  maize,  and  have  many  and 
better  horses  and  a  few  cattle,  since  we  came  back  to 
this  land  of  our  fathers. 

"But  we  have  our  own  way  of  making  homes  and 
of  training  our  children.  We  have  heard  the 
stranger  ask  for  our  girls  to  place  them  in  school 
far  away  from  us.  He  would  teach  them  to  dress 
and  to  work  and  to  live  as  we  do  not,  and  make  them 
forget  to  love  and  obey  their  parents. 

"Let  this  teacher  say  these  words  to  the  Great 
Father  which  I  have  now  spoken,  and  tell  him  that 
the  Navajo  mothers  love  their  girls  too  much  to 
send  them  away,  and  we  will  have  our  children  go 
to  school  in  our  own  country,  as  the  Great  Father 
promised  us  when  we  came  back  to  it." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  satisfaction  in  the  assem- 
bly, breaking  out  into  decided  gutturals,  "How," 

29 


Chunda 

"How,"  "How,"  from  prominent  men  in  the  throng. 
Redford  knew  that  Hut-tah's  bold  opposition  would 
have  the  effect  to  delay  his  success,  if  it  did  not 
defeat  its  purpose.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Nar- 
bonne,  an  influential  chief  of  the  conservative  party 
in  the  tribe,  and  she  had  inherited  a  bitter  feeling 
toward  the  white  man,  and  cherished  it  herself  from 
remembrance  of  their  captivity  on  the  reservation 
at  Bosque  Redondo. 

"I  wish  to  ask  the  teacher  a  question,"  said  a 
Navajo  man  whose  velvet  tunic,  the  prized  gift  of 
an  English  hunter  who  had  once  visited  the  reserva- 
tion, and  large  silver  belt  and  buttons  indicated 
special  rank  among  his  tribe.  "The  man  has  told  us 
how  much  better  an  education  at  his  school  would 
make  our  children.  We  know  that  the  white  men 
send  their  children  to  school.  They  grow  up  and 
come  to  the  country  of  the  Apaches  and  of  the 
Navajo.  They  get  strong  drink.  They  rob  the 
Indian  people  of  their  lands  and  of  their  horses. 
They  give  them  little  money  for  their  wool,  and  dig 
the  silver  and  gold  out  of  the  hills  in  the  Indian 
country  and  drive  the  red  men  away.  They  often 
shoot  and  kill  our  people  if  they  resist  such  rob- 
bery. Will  the  teacher  tell  us  if  it  is  education  that 
makes  the  white  man  do  these  things?  Is  it  this 
education  which  he  offers  to  us  for  our  children? 
They  are  better  without  it." 

Redford  perceived  that  the  men  moved  nearer  to 
the  trading  post  after  this  adroit  reply. 

"Navajos,"  said  Redford,  "you  have  among  you 
30 


HUT-TAH 

men  with  good  hearts  and  men  with  bad  hearts. 
With  a  bad  heart,  the  more  a  Navajo  knows  the 
more  evil  he  does.  It  is  so  with  the  white  man. 
But  we  teach  the  youth  to  be  good  and  kind  to 
others  as  well  as  to  know  many  things.  Some  of 
them  become  bad  men  and  Avomen,  like  some  of  your 
own  Navajo  youths  brought  up  on  the  reservation." 

Redford  had  paused  at  this  reply,  fearing  lest  he 
should  say  too  much  in  defense  of  the  barbarities 
of  white  men.  Another  stalwart  Navajo  took  up 
the  discussion ;  he  was  sitting  on  a  large  black  horse 
which  impatiently  smote  the  sand  with  his  front  feet 
as  if  sharing  the  mood  of  his  rider : 

"Why  do  not  the  white  men  leave  the  Navajos 
alone?  We  wish  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  them, 
but  to  abide  in  the  land  which  the  Great  Father  has 
promised  shall  always  be  ours.  You  say  that  the 
white  men  are  like  the  overflowing  waters  from  this 
river,  and  will  destroy  us  if  we  do  not  become  like 
them.  But  if  they  hat€  us  now  and  desire  our  lands, 
much  more  will  they  be  envious  and  cruel  if  we 
possess  the  land  with  them." 

"But,"  replied  Redford,  "the  government  at 
Washington  equally  protects  everyone  who  becomes 
a  citizen  and  lives  like  the  rest  in  obedience  to  the 
law." 

"Why,  then,  will  not  the  government  keep  the 
white  man  from  our  reservation?  We  do  not  dis- 
obey the  laws  that  were  made  for  the  white  men. 
They  have  not  been  given  to  the  Navajos." 

"It  is  because  the  Navajo  claims  to  belong  to 
31 


Chunda 

another  people,"  said  Redford,  "and  to  have  his  own 
laws  and  customs,  that  the  white  man  will  crowd 
him  and  crush  him  with  his  power.  This  is  what 
you  and  your  fathers  have  tried  to  do  to  the  Pueblo 
peoples  in  this  country  for  three  hundred  years.  A 
stronger  race  will  ride  over  you,  as  just  now  your 
horses  trampled  on  those  who  fell  in  that  wild  rush 
across  the  plain." 

Redford's  face  had  become  flushed  with  tender 
feeling,  his  voice  trembled  with  the  earnestness  of 
his  entreaty,  and  yet  its  tone  fell  sadly  on  his  own 
ears  as  he  perceived  how  little  he  had  effected  by 
his  speech ;  but,  gathering  up  all  his  purpose  in  one 
short  appeal,  he  said,  with  a  pleading  voice  that 
reached  to  the  farthest  horseman  on  the  edge  of  the 
assembly : 

"Navajos!  Friends!  Will  you  not  let  us  train 
your  children  to  live  as  brothers  with  us  and  share 
our  prosperity  and  power?" 

There  were  many  fierce  or  sullen  faces  turned 
toward  him  in  that  crowd,  but  nearly  all  of  them 
were  of  men.  Some  looked  sadly  upon  this  pleader, 
whose  heart  had  been  deeply  moved.  They  felt  he 
was  a  friend,  but  dared  not  tell  their  wishes  in  the 
assembly,  for  the  opposition  of  the  medicine  men 
and  the  leaders  among  the  squaws  was  unmistakable. 

The  colloquy  was  ended,  for  the  riders  began  to 
move  toward  the  place  prepared  for  the  great 
Shaman  dance.  The  chief,  Ha-tsi-niniski,  turned 
to  Redford  and  courteously  took  his  hand  as  he 
said: 

32 


HUT-TAH 

"The  people  will  think  over  what  you  have  told 
them,  and  will  give  their  reply  tomorrow." 

"My  friends,"  Redford  shouted,  in  ringing  tones 
that  arrested  those  who  were  already  separated  from 
the  rest  and  departing,  "I  wish  to  give  you  a  token 
of  my  goodwill  to  make  you  enjoy  still  more  your 
great  Shaman  dance,"  and  presented  a  sack  of  smok- 
ing tobacco  in  small  packages  to  the  chief. 

Ha-tsi-niniski  took  the  gift  from  his  hands  and 
began  to  throw  the  tobacco  pouches  down  to  the 
hundreds  of  Navajos  below  him.  The  scowls  left 
their  countenances,  which  lighted  up  into  smiles  that 
quickly  became  the  laughter  of  surprise  and  jollity, 
and  they  were  soon  scrambling  for  the  prizes  of 
goodwill  which  were  flying  through  the  air. 


33 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  shamans'  dance 

The  darkness  had  now  settled  upon  the  great 
basin  of  Chin-a-h,  and  five  or  six  camp  fires  cast  a 
hirid  Hght  upon  the  low,  rocky  bluffs  beneath  which 
this  great  company  of  Navajo  people  was  assem- 
bled. 

Many  who  had  remained  upon  their  horses  dur- 
ing the  conference  near  the  trading  post  store  were 
still  mounted,  standing  in  the  outer  circles,  while 
squaws  and  youths  were  sitting  on  the  sides  of  the 
bluffs  that  here  rose  like  the  seats  of  a  Grecian 
theater  for  these  savage  spectators. 

The  company  of  Navajos  had  swelled  in  numbers 
so  that,  in  the  deep  shadows,  they  seemed  to  be  a 
multitude.  Hundreds  were  sitting  on  the  ground 
around  the  fires  where  had  been  left  an  open  space 
about  fifty  feet  long  and  thirty  feet  wide,  at  one  end 
of  which  was  a  large  booth  made  of  freshly  cut 
branches  of  cottonwood  trees.  Near  the  other  end 
of  this  open  space  was  the  hogan  where  the  sick 
woman  lived,  whose  evil  spirit  the  Shamans  had 
been  summoned  to  cast  out  by  their  incantations  and 
dancing. 

Redford  sought  to  divert  his  sad  thoughts  by  a 
careful  observance  of  the  dance.  Though  the  only 
white  man  among  these  savages,  many  of  whom 

34 


The  Shamans'  Dance 

were  unfriendly,  and  uncertain  of  what  adventures 
he  might  meet  in  the  darkness,  he  knew  that  he  had 
been  received  as  the  guest  of  their  chief,  and  that 
as  a  messenger  from  Washington  he  could  trust  to 
their  respect  for  the  Great  Father,  whose  words  they 
had  heard  from  him.  But  many  had  come  from 
their  distant  hogans  who  had  not  been  in  the  assem- 
bly where  he  had  spoken,  and  there  were  as  evil- 
minded  men  in  this  barbaric  tribe  as  among  other 
Apaches,  who  would,  perhaps,  take  advantage  of 
the  darkness  to  rob  or  injure  the  stranger.  Deter- 
mined to  keep  a  bold  but  cautious  demeanor  before 
these  Navajos,  Redford  passed  slowly  among  the 
horses  and  through  the  crowded  circles  of  men  and 
women  sitting  or  standing  around  the  fires.  Now  a 
friendly  hand  would  be  stretched  out  to  him,  or  a 
mounted  Navajo,  whose  face  was  visible  by  the 
firelight,  would  nod  in  recognition,  while  others 
were  indifferent  or  averted  their  faces. 

Redford  was  uncertainly  advancing  toward  the 
hogan,  when  he  felt  a  touch  upon  his  shoulder.  He 
looked  back  with  a  little  alarm  at  this  unusual 
movement. 

"Wi-jee-gee-dee-ek,"  said  a  slow  but  distinct 
voice,  and  a  hand  was  extended  to  him  in  the  dark- 
ness. 

The  Navajo  salutation,  "My  brother,"  was  famil- 
iar to  him,  and  a  kind  one,  but  he  could  not  see  the 
face. 

"Ti-dow-olge?"  ("What  is  the  name?")  he  re- 
plied, and  drew  him  toward  the  camp  fire. 

35 


Chunda 

"Ind-ah  Hot-si,"  said  the  Navajo;  "Ind-ah-see- 
kis."    ("I  am  Hot-si ;  I  am  a  friend.") 

Redford  recognized  the  young  hunter  with  whom 
he  had  parted  that  morning  at  his  own  camp  fire  on 
the  distant  Mesa  de  Vaca. 

With  a  smile  Hot-si  put  out  his  hand  and  pointed 
to  the  hogan. 

Trusting  to  his  guidance,  Redford,  now  fully 
recognized  by  the  Navajos  in  the  firelight,  nodded 
to  them  as  he  passed  by  and  entered  the  hogan. 

In  the  center  a  small  fire  was  burning  beneath 
the  opening  at  the  top  where  the  poles  met,  upon 
which  were  interwoven  branches  and  a  coating  of 
mud  inside  and  outside  of  this  conical-shaped  dwell- 
ing. The  place  was  filled  with  smoke,  but  Redford 
counted  twenty-five  or  more  Navajos  sitting  around 
the  fire,  on  one  side  of  which  was  the  sick  woman 
squatting  upon  the  ground. 

A  low,  monotonous  beat  of  a  tom-tom  was  kept 
up  by  someone  hidden  in  the  shadows  and  the 
smoke  that  filled  the  hogan  with  a  thick  bluish  haze. 
Two  or  three  medicine  men  were  sitting  near  the 
sick  squaw  and  uttering  a  low  chant.  They  were 
preparing  their  patient  for  the  great  ceremonies 
which  were  to  cure  her  of  all  her  troubles  by  casting 
out  the  evil  spirit  who  caused  them. 

At  a  signal  the  woman  arose  and  taking  a  basket 
of  corn  meal  scattered  it  first  upon  the  Shamans, 
then  upon  the  fire,  then  again  upon  herself  and 
toward  the  people  who  sat  around  her  as  guards  or 
comforters.      This   ceremony   was   repeated   about 

36 


The  Shamans'  Dance 

every  ten  minutes  for  an  hour,  the  chant  being  sung 
at  intervals  by  the  Shamans  and  by  all  the  company 
with  the  incessant  beating  of  the  tom-tom. 

Meanwhile,  in  the  booth  opposite  the  hogan  where 
these  preparatory  rites  were  going  on,  the  principal 
Shamans  who  were  dancers  had  been  getting  ready 
for  their  all-night  work.  Redford,  tiring  of  the 
scenes  in  the  hogan,  rose  to  his  feet  with  his  young 
guide  and  sought  the  fresh  night  air  for  relief.  The 
throng  of  dark-faced  people  and  horses,  their  col- 
ored garments  and  trappings  heightened  in  effect  by 
the  fitful  flames  of  the  camp  fires,  were  types  of  the 
mental  and  spiritual  darkness  which  their  dim  per- 
ceptions made  more  sensible  to  his  thoughtful  gaze. 

As  Redford  followed  his  Navajo  friend  through 
the  crowd  he  felt  his  hands  suddenly  grasped,  and 
before  he  knew  whither  he  was  being  led  he  found 
himself  sitting  on  the  ground  close  to  the  open  space 
for  the  dance,  and  by  the  full  light  of  the  fires  under 
the  gaze  of  hundreds  of  swarthy  Apache  faces. 

The  Shamans  were  still  in  their  lodge  of  branches, 
and  Redford  improved  the  moments  of  waiting  to 
scrutinize  these  worshipers  of  demons.  Their  coun- 
tenances betrayed  neither  joy,  faith,  nor  hope,  but 
indifference  or  melancholy,  as  if  they  were  forced, 
by  the  tyranny  of  superstition,  to  accept  the  services 
of  the  priests  of  witchcraft,  who  were  about  to 
"make  medicine"  in  healing  their  patient. 

Opposite  to  Redford  the  face  of  a  young  girl  of 
about  fourteen  years  arrested  his  attention.  Her 
deep  black  eyes  glistened  in  the  firelight.     Beneath 

37 


Chunda 

her  thoughtful  brow  were  cheeks  less  full  than 
usual  in  Apache  maidens.  Her  lips  outlined  a  mouth 
that  indicated  firmness,  but  discontent.  Her  hair 
was  combed  neatly  over  her  ears  in  the  fashion  of 
a  maiden  of  her  tribe.  Her  figure,  though  partly 
hidden  in  the  folds  of  her  blanket,  was  evidently 
slight  and  tall  for  her  age. 

Redford  caught  her  eye  fixed  inquiringly  upon 
him,  and  as  she  turned  her  head  away  he  remem- 
bered that  this  face  in  the  assembly  an  hour  before 
had  specially  awakened  his  most  earnest  appeal  to 
the  Navajo  women.  A  subtle  recognition  of  a 
hungering  spirit,  awakened  to  a  new  but  strangely 
thrilling  destiny  which  she  had  even  then  experi- 
enced, had  communicated  to  his  consciousness  that 
he  was  to  be  her  guide  out  of  the  darkness  to  the 
world  of  which  she  had  a  momentary  vision.  The 
messenger  of  the  Great  Father  had,  from  that  in- 
stant, been  transformed  to  her  mind  as  a  spiritual 
guide  whose  power  should  break  the  galling  bonds 
of  the  evil  Shamans  which  she  had  perceived  so 
firmly  fastened  upon  her  people. 

The  girl  was  not  alone,  but  sitting  by  her  side 
was  her  mother,  whose  features  were  in  marked 
contrast  to  those  of  Hut-tah,  who  had  so  success- 
fully opposed  Redford  in  the  assembly.  She,  too, 
had  been  deeply  moved  by  his  intense  appeal,  and 
had  two  or  three  times  made  a  movement  forward 
to  speak,  from  which  she  had  been  dissuaded  by  a 
stalwart  Navajo  mounted  on  the  horse  that  had 
won  at  the  race  in  the  afternoon. 

38 


The  Shamans'  Dance 

Redford  was  yet  to  learn  on  the  morrow  that  she 
was  Hut-tah's  cousin,  but  that  her  own  name, 
Hedipa,  was  known  as  "the  woman  who  brings  com- 
fort." Her  eyes  were  compassionate,  her  Hps  joy- 
ous, and  ah  the  hnes  of  her  thoroughly  Navajo  face 
were  softened. 

The  Navajo  had  taken  a  seat  beside  Redford, 
who,  as  he  turned  to  ask  Hot-si  by  a  sign  when  the 
dance  would  begin,  saw  a  smile  of  recognition  upon 
his  lips  and  his  eyes  directed  to  the  maiden,  who, 
with  a  clear  and  steady  gaze,  returned  her  lover's 
greeting. 

At  this  moment  a  loud  beat  of  the  tom-tom  and  a 
shrill  cry  from  the  lodge  turned  the  eyes  of  all  to  a 
procession  of  dancers  emerging  singly  from  the 
entrance  and  slowly  approaching,  in  silence,  the  cen- 
tral space  between  the  fires.  There  was  a  hush  of 
fear  and  expectation  in  the  spectators  as  they  took 
their  positions.  There  were  twelve  stalwart  men 
standing  in  parallel  rows,  six  feet  apart,  with  faces 
turned  outward.  They  bowed  low  to  the  multitude ; 
then,  reversing  their  positions,  they  did  the  same  to 
those  opposite.  Their  bodies,  nearly  naked,  were 
painted  in  different  colors,  with  symbolic  figures  of 
white,  red  and  black  on  a  lighter  surface  spread 
upon  their  chests  and  backs.  Their  faces  were  cov- 
ered with  masks  of  a  pallid  hue  and  streaked  with 
yellow ;  their  hair  tied  in  knots  or  streaming  beneath 
their  tall  masks.  Above  all  were  wreaths  of  green 
leaves  and  twigs,  and  from  the  heads  of  the  dancers 
projected  goats'  horns.     Strings  of  rattling  orna- 

39 


Chunda 

ments  hung  from  their  waists  or  were  carried  in 
their  hands,  and  moccasins  in  white,  yellow  and 
brown  covered  their  feet. 

Crouching  their  bodies  and  uttering  low  whoops, 
they  at  first  began  a  slow  dance,  the  movements 
of  which  became  swifter  as  they  circled  in  and  out 
of  the  three  camp  fires  inclosed  by  them,  varying 
their  postures  with  each  round. 

The  sick  woman  soon  came  out  of  the  hogan,  and, 
walking  up  and  down  the  rows  of  dancers,  scattered 
sacred  hiddotin^  upon  them,  which  they  acknowl- 
edged with  a  low  bow,  and  as  she  cast  it  into  the  air 
and  over  herself  they  broke  out  into  loud  cries.  The 
tom-toms  were  vigorously  keeping  time  for  these 
movements;  yet  the  Navajos  gazed  with  impas- 
sive countenances.  The  patient  fixed  her  eyes 
upon  the  ground  as  the  dancers,  passing  her,  waved 
their  hands  and  arms  up  and  down  over  her  head 
with  cries  of  pain  or  of  supplication  to  the  spirits 
of  the  air  and  of  the  fires.  Then  they  stretched  their 
arms  out  as  if  the  sick  woman's  prayers  were 
granted.  In  fifteen  minutes  the  first  incantation 
ceased,  and  the  spectral  Shamans,  bowing,  returned 
slowly  to  their  lodge.  After  an  interval  of  ten 
minutes  they  came  back,  and,  with  the  same  prelimi- 
nary movements  but  arranged  in  different  groups, 
they  went  through  similar  figures  of  the  dance. 
Each  time  the  communication  between  them  and 
the  mind  of  the  patient  was  established  by  the  scat- 
tering  of   the  hiddotin,    through   which   also  the 

'  Made  from  the  fine  pollen  of  the  flag. 

40 


The  Shamans'  Dance 

Shamans'  power  of  exorcism  was  made  effective 
over  the  evil  spirit  who  had  caused  her  disease. 

An  hour  had  passed,  and  Redford  motioned  to 
Hot-si  that  he  would  go  to  the  sides  of  the  bluff  to 
survey  the  weird  scene  below.  As  they  retired  from 
the  fires  they  were  curiously  watched  by  the  people, 
but  once  out  of  the  crowd,  which  they  found  almost 
impassable,  Redford  went  up  the  slope  of  the  bluffs 
and  sat  down  among  many  women  and  children 
where,  for  the  next  two  hours,  were  photographed 
on  his  mind  sights  which  stirred  his  deepest  sym- 
pathies. 

He  saw  the  indescribable  devil  worship  that  for 
centuries  had  held  these  savage  peoples  in  bondage 
to  evil,  and  groaning  now  in  these  rites  for  redemp- 
tion from  their  fears  and  from  bodily  ills.  He  noted 
the  glimmerings  of  faith  in  an  unseen  world,  whose 
powers  wrought  for  mercy  and  help  to  the  suffer- 
ing and  sorrowful  of  earth.  Here  was  natural 
reason  subverted  to  the  sway  of  the  imagination, 
and  a  higher  nature  feebly  asserting  itself  against 
the  bondage  of  their  senses.  On  one  side  were  craft, 
covetousness,  deceit  and  ambition  ruling  over  in- 
ferior minds;  on  the  other  side  was  blind  devotion 
or  unwilling  submission  to  their  hated  sway. 

Redford  had  seen  enough.  He  knew  what  to 
expect  in  these  midnight  orgies  when  these  devil 
dances  were  ended.  The  unusual  fatigues  of  the 
day  could  no  longer  be  resisted.  His  Navajo  com- 
panion was  being  kept  from  his  sweetheart  wdiile 
so  faithfully  serving  him,  and  he  therefore  bade 

41 


Chunda 

him  meet  him  in  the  morning  at  the  trading  post. 
Then  lie  returned  alone  to  the  store,  where  a  pile 
of  blankets  had  been  laid  upon  the  counter  by  Green- 
field, the  trader,  who  had  anxiously  awaited  his 
coming  out  of  this  crowd  of  savages,  into  which 
he  would  not  himself  venture. 

The  door  was  securely  fastened,  but  these  two 
white  men  listened  to  hideous  cries  and  the  beats 
of  tom-toms,  increasing  each  hour  in  intensity 
around  them,  with  a  dread  which  only  weariness 
could  dull  as  they  sank  into  sleep  disturbed  by  the 
revels  of  two  thousand  Navajos  and  the  tramp  of 
horses  when  they  scattered  to  their  distant  hogans. 


4-> 


CHAPTER  VI 

CHUNDA 

When  Redford  looked  out  from  the  door  of  the 
trading  post  upon  the  Chin-a-h  plain  in  the  early 
morning  he  could  see  not  more  than  a  hundred 
Navajos  remaining  of  the  great  company  gathered 
there  the  previous  night.  The  sunlight  streamed 
brilliantly  across  the  eastern  bluffs  upon  the  men 
scattered  about  in  the  preparations  to  depart.  Some 
were  girding  saddles  or  blankets  to  their  horses' 
backs,  while  others  were  mounting  and  riding  away. 
The  booths  had  disappeared,  a  few  embers  were 
smoldering  where  the  camp  fires  had  been;  there 
were  no  shouts  or  loud  cries  as  would  have  been 
heard  among  a  disorderly  company  of  white  men ; 
but  the  stillness  of  the  neighboring  canon  and  of 
the  distant  mountains  seemed  to  be  gathering  over 
the  scenes  of  revel.  Chin-a-li,  which  a  few  hours 
before  was  so  full  of  animate  color  and  form  and  the 
strange  sounds  of  savage  incantations,  was  almost 
deserted. 

Ha-tsi-niniski  was  standing  near  the  post  store 
with  a  few  men  around  him.  Redford  perceived 
among  them  Chos,  the  interpreter,  to  whom  he 
nodded,  and  approaching  the  group  accosted  the 
chief : 

"She-nantee  (Chief),  what  have  the  people  de- 
43 


ClIUNDA 

cided  as  to  their  girls?  Can  I  take  any  away  to  my 
school?" 

"The  women  are  opposed,"  Ila-tsi-niniski  re- 
plied.   "The  women  will  not  give  up  their  girls," 

"Are  they  unwilling  that  I  should  go  to  their 
hogans  and  persuade  them?" 

"It  will  not  do  good  now,  sefior.  They  must 
think  longer  upon  it." 

"Do  the  men  sustain  their  wives  in  this  refusal?" 

"The  women  control  their  girls  as  they  please," 
said  the  chief. 

"Are  they  all  determined  to  resist  the  Great 
Father's  request?" 

"Some  of  the  men  approve  of  the  school.  You 
may  get  some  of  their  boys." 

"But  is  there  not  one  girl  to  go  back  with  me?" 

"Senor,"  said  the  chief,  cautiously,  "there  is  a 
mother  yonder  who  desires  her  child  to  go  with 
you,  but  Hut-tah  has  threatened  her  with  harm  if 
she  consents." 

"And  why  does  Hut-tah  object  so  strongly?" 
urged  Red  ford. 

"Ah,  senor,  she  will  never  yield  the  customs  of 
her  fathers.  She  rules  the  Navajo  tribe  according 
to  her  wish  whenever  she  speaks  to  the  people." 

"She-nantee,  you  fill  me  with  surprise,"  said  Red- 
ford,  "and  yet  I  felt  last  evening  that  the  spirits  of 
your  ancestors  were  about  when  she  addressed  me 
before  the  people." 

Ha-tsi-niniski  looked  sharply  into  Redford's  eyes 
at  this  reply,  and  then  turned  toward  the  Chelly 

44 


Chunda 

Canon,  where  thin  clouds  of  mist  were  rising  from 
the  stream  and  climbing  up  the  sides  of  the  chff. 
For  a  few  moments  he  seemed  to  be  wrapped  in 
meditation,  or  perhaps  in  prayer.  Then  he  came 
nearer  to  Redford  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoul- 
der. He  motioned  to  Chos  to  separate  himself  from 
the  two  or  three  Navajos  who  were  intently  listen- 
ing to  the  colloquy  between  their  chief  and  the 
teacher,  and,  taking  the  interpreter  by  the  hand,  he 
said  in  a  low  tone  in  the  Navajo  tongue  to  Redford: 

"Hut-tah  is  much  to  be  feared,  for  the  Navajos 
know  her  sorrow  and  her  wrongs.  Her  husband 
was  murdered  by  a  white  man,  and  her  young  babe 
was  hurled  from  the  cliff  into  yonder  canon  by  his 
murderer.  She  fled  with  another  child,  just  able  to 
walk,  to  a  cave  in  those  rocks  which  the  white  sol- 
diers could  not  reach,  and  when  she  returned  to  her 
people  she  took  a  solemn  oath  to  the  Navajo  god 
that  she  would  hold  her  people  firm  to  their  faith 
and  never  let  them  yield  land  or  flock  or  children 
to  your  people's  care  or  possession." 

Redford's  face  flushed  with  emotion  as  the  chief, 
in  pathetic  tones,  told  him  this  story  of  cruelty, 
which,  in  the  subjugation  of  the  Navajos  in  1862 
and  1863,  had  been  repeated  many  times,  while 
those  who  had  refused  to  surrender  had  been  hunted 
like  wild  beasts  and  shot  by  United  States  soldiers. 
The  secret  of  her  fearless  opposition  was  revealed, 
and  he  admired,  in  his  deepest  heart,  the  woman  who 
would  resist  him  to  the  last  moment  of  her  life. 

"I  would  like  to  see  Hut-tah's  cousin,  the  mother 
45 


Chunda 

of  whom  you  have  told  me,"  said  Redford.  "What 
is  her  name?" 

"Hedipa,  and  she  waits  for  you  with  her  daughter 
behind  that  sharp  cliff  in  the  canon,  if  you  will  seek 
her." 

Redford  looked  to  a  point  half  a  mile  away,  near 
which  curled  upward  a  thin  wreath  of  smoke,  darker 
than  the  silvery  vapors  which  were  rapidly  disap- 
pearing in  the  sun's  rays.  He  bethought  him  of  a 
face,  gentler  than  the  rest,  that  had  been  opposite 
to  him  as  he  sat  the  night  before  near  the  dancers 
in  the  light  of  the  fires  through  which  they  moved 
in  mysterious  figures.  He  recalled  at  the  same  time 
the  anxious  looks  of  Hot-si  as  he  sat  by  his  side, 
and  the  furtive  motion  of  his  hands  when  his  own 
attention  was  drawn  to  the  dancers.  Turning  to 
Parker,  his  guide,  who  had  been  watching  his  con- 
versation with  the  chief,  Redford  said  quickly : 

"Hire  for  me  one  of  those  Navajo  ponies,  Parker, 
for  two  hours ;  I  wish  to  ride  up  the  caiion.  And 
get  one  for  yourself,  for  you  must  show  me  the  way 
into  that  gorge." 

Redford  now  went  into  the  post  store  and  break- 
fasted with  the  trader,  and  as  he  came  out  of  the 
tent  where  the  meal  had  been  taken  Parker  rode 
up  with  the  horses  and  Redford  mounted,  deter- 
mined to  follow  up  the  slightest  trail  that  would 
bring  him  to  a  pupil. 

Ha-tsi-niniski  was  just  starting  away,  and,  riding 
up  to  his  guest,  he  reined  in  his  pony  and  said : 

"Sefior,  tell  the  Great  Father  many  thanks,  and 
46 


Chunda 

say  to  him  that  the  Navajo  people  will  think  and 
speak  of  his  message  in  their  hogans.  In  the  winter 
they  will  hold  a  council,  and  at  the  next  harvest 
dance,  in  another  autumn,  they  will  give  him  an 
answer  through  you,  if  you  will  come  again  to  us." 

Then,  taking  the  teacher  by  the  hand  he  embraced 
him,  saying  in  a  low  tone,  "Adios,  sefior,  usted  esta 
nuestro  amigo.     Buenos  dias  1" 

Redford  returned  his  earnest  farewell  and  rode 
sadly  and  slowly  across  the  wide  entrance  to  the 
cajion. 

It  was  a  calm,  bright  September  morning;  not  a 
cloud  was  in  the  sky,  not  a  ripple  in  the  air.  His 
purpose  was  stronger  for  the  interview  that  had 
just  passed,  but  his  heart  was  heavy  at  the  delay. 
"One  year!  How  much  might  have  been  wrought 
in  that  time,"  he  sighed,  "if  these  Navajos  had 
known  what  was  for  their  peace!" 

Parker  was  leading  the  way  to  the  brink  of  the 
Chelly  River,  which  was  wide  and  shallow,  though 
under  its  rippling  current  full  of  quicksands.  Select- 
ing a  place  to  ford,  the  guide  cautiously  urged  his 
horse  into  the  stream.  The  bottom  yielded  to  the 
tread  of  the  animals  as  they  neared  the  other  side. 
With  a  few  leaps  to  the  right  they  cleared  the  dan- 
gerous spot,  and,  galloping  a  hundred  yards  further 
along  the  bank,  they  turned  the  point  of  the  cliff. 
Looking  up,  the  riders  saw  the  smoke  of  a  fire  a 
third  of  a  mile  above  the  turn.  As  they  approached 
Redford  perceived  three  persons  around  the  fire,  and 
recognized,   from   the   chief's   description,   Hedipa 

47 


L.IIUNDA 

and  her  daughter,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  fire 
the  Navajo  hunter. 

Hot-si  came  forward  to  greet  his  friend  and  led 
him  to  the  woman,  who  received  him  with  a  smile, 
though  Redf ord  perceived  beneath  it  a  troubled  look. 

Parker's  acquaintance  with  the  Navajo  language 
now  served  Redford  in  the  conversation  which 
Hedipa,  with  a  quiet  dignity,  began.  She  was 
ready  to  place  her  child  in  Redford's  care  if  she 
could  see  the  women  who  would  teach  and  train  her 
to  be  like  the  daughters  of  the  white  man ;  but  she 
had  been  bitterly  chided  by  Hut-tah,  who  had  left 
her  the  evening  before  with  an  ominous  gesture, 
should  she  yield  to  her  better  wishes  for  the  child's 
welfare. 

It  was  an  eventful  hour  that  he  spent  by  that  fire 
under  the  cliff.  In  it  he  learned  much  of  the  mother's 
heart.  She  held  her  child  with  no  common  love,  but 
with  a  forecast  of  her  future  which  a  divine  intuition 
rather  than  a  selfish  ambition  had  given  her. 
Chunda,^  her  daughter,  was  a  young  maiden  of  four- 
teen years.  She  had  rare  beauty  for  a  Navajo  girl. 
Her  features  were  sprightly  and  her  eyes  intelligent, 
her  face  mobile,  her  brow  wide  and  clear  from  every 
trace  of  cunning  and  of  care.  Her  figure  was  slen- 
der, but  vigorous  in  motion,  and  there  was  a  sparkle 
of  hope  mingled  with  a  generous  resolve  lighting 
her  countenance.  As  she  caught  Hot-si's  eager 
search  into  her  thoughts,  when  her  mother  turned  to 
ask  her  if  she  were  perfectly  willing  to  leave  them 

^Pronounced  Choon-da, 


Chunda 

for  so  long,  her  eyes  fell  and  her  breath  came 
quickly  as  she  put  her  hand  into  her  mother's  and 
moved  nearer  to  her  side,  tenderly  addressing  her, 

"She-ma,"  she  said  softly,  "if  Hot-si  consents  to 
wait  for  me  so  many  months,  I  will  go  for  his  sake 
to  show  him  how  the  white  men  become  so  wise. 
He  then  shall  lead  his  people." 

"But,"  said  her  mother,  "Hot-si  says  he  will  go, 
too,  to  another  school  in  the  white  man's  land,  and 
will  learn  for  himself  to  be  worthy  of  you  and  of 
our  nation.  He  must  know  how  to  save  his  people 
from  the  destruction  that  will  sweep  them  away 
before  the  multitudes  that  will  come  upon  us.  Can 
you  bear  the  parting  that  is  so  hard  for  me?  She- 
nal-le!    She-nal-le!" 

The  daughter,  thus  addressed,  threw  herself  upon 
her  mother's  bosom  in  the  agony  of  a  child's  fore- 
boding; then  lifting  her  tearful  eyes  toward  her 
face,  and  reading  the  expression  of  an  heroic  pur- 
pose to  save  her  from  the  brutal  scenes  she  had  just 
witnessed,  she  smiled  through  her  tears,  and  with 
a  glance  of  trusting  love  toward  her  betrothed 
answered : 

"I  will  go,  and  we  will  both  return  to  comfort 
you.  She-ma!" 

Redford  was  too  thoughtful  of  a  mother's  anxiety 
to  withhold  sympathy  with  a  woman's  protecting 
care  of  her  loved  child.  He  promised  that  one  of 
his  daughters  whom  he  had  left  at  Fort  Defiance 
should  be  with  him  when  he  took  the  child  away. 
Then,  telling  Hedipa  to  meet  him  in  three  days  with 

49 


Chunda 

Hot-si  and  Chunda  at  the  Haystacks,  three  pyramids 
of  rock  rising  fifty  or  sixty  feet  above  the  plain, 
on  the  trail  from  Fort  Defiance  to  Manuelito  Sta- 
tion, he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  slowly  back  to 
the  trading  post  in  anxious  conversation  with  his 
guide. 

The  spell  of  the  Shamans  was  broken.  The  bar- 
riers of  superstition  had  been  pierced.  A  ray  of 
light  w^as  shining  in  upon  this  land  of  darkness,  and 
a  few  souls  were  struggling  toward  it.  But  wdiat  a 
conflict  was  begun  with  the  powers  that  had  so  long 
held  sway  over  that  nation ! 


50 


CHAPTER  VII 


TSWANE 


The  long  shadows  of  the  western  cHffs  were  fall- 
ing upon  the  trail  which  led  to  a  rincon  in  the  Chelly 
Cafion  about  ten  miles  from  the  Chin-a-li  trading 
post.  There  were  signs  of  a  gathering  of  Navajo 
people  for  some  important  event,  for  riders  were  to 
be  seen  far  down  the  gorge  coming  gayly  dressed 
from  the  distant  plains  and  from  the  eastern 
branches  of  the  Chelly,  which  here  came  into  the 
main  cafion.  The  walls  rise  into  peaks  which  pierce 
the  sky,  but  are  smooth  and  perpendicular  on  their 
sides,  as  if  the  regular  strata  of  which  they  are 
made  were  laid  up  with  a  plumb  line.  These  strata 
are  from  ten  to  twenty-five  feet  thick  and  distinctly 
marked  by  perfectly  parallel  lines  of  color  to  the 
bottom  of  the  canon.  Where  they  have  been  curved 
and  twisted  great  caves  have  been  formed  from 
two  to  three  hundred  feet  above  the  base,  in  which 
are  the  ruins  built  of  irregular  masonry  that  were 
the  dwellings  of  the  ancient  cliff  dwellers. 

As  the  shadows  deepen  into  twilight  many  more 
horsemen  are  to  be  seen  hastening  to  the  rincon, 
and  now  the  gloom  of  the  short,  deep  gorge  is  re- 
lieved by  several  fires  around  which  the  company 
of  Navajos  are  standing,  or  sitting  on  their  horses, 
and  with  amused  faces  and  gay  laughter  anticipat- 

51 


Chunda 

ing  the  marriage  dance  to  which  they  have  been 
summoned. 

Two  or  three  hogans  are  brought  into  view  by 
the  flames  of  dry  pihon  and  cedar,  that  give  a  strong 
but  uncertain  hght  and  cause  the  walls  and  crags 
to  appear  to  rise  to  an  immense  height  above  the 
noisy  and  gleeful  company.  There  is  a  sound  of 
the  tom-tom  in  one  of  the  hogans,  and  the  people 
who  have  been  moving  about  gather  around  a  space 
between  the  fires  and  wait  the  appearance  of  the 
dancers.  These  are  the  young  men  who  aspire  to 
the  hand  of  the  maiden  who  will  tonight  choose 
her  husband  from  those  who  shall  have  pleased  her 
most  by  their  dancing. 

The  players  on  the  tom-tom  come  out  of  the 
hogan  and  take  a  position  at  one  end  of  the  danc- 
ing ground.  Their  voices  begin  in  a  low  tone  to 
chant  in  unison  with  the  drum  beats.  As  the  chant 
becomes  louder  a  dozen  sprightly  youths  with  bows 
and  spears  in  their  hands,  with  feathers  on  their 
heads  and  a  great  profusion  of  bright-colored  paints 
on  their  faces  and  arms,  leap  into  the  center  of  the 
space  reserved  for  them.  Forming  in  lines,  they 
begin  a  swaying  motion  with  their  bodies  and  arms ; 
they  lift  their  feet  in  alternation  from  right  to  left, 
then  crouch  with  bended  knees  and  move  forward 
at  the  tom-tom  beats.  The  chants  rise  more  shrill 
and  strong  upon  the  air.  The  dancers  turn  in  and 
about  and  around  the  fires,  uttering  whoops  and 
sounds  of  joy,  or  extending  their  arms  in  entreaty. 
The  time  is  quickened  and  the  motions  become  more 

52 


TSWANE 

violent.  In  a  booth  in  view  of  the  dancing  ground 
is  the  maiden  in  rich  attire  of  painted  buckskins,  a 
bright  blanket  on  her  shoulders  and  partially  cover- 
ing the  deep  blue  skirt  interwoven  with  borders  of 
red  and  green  and  yellow.  Her  neck  and  arms  are 
covered  with  beads  and  silver  ornaments.  As  her 
suitors  circle  in  front  of  the  booth  they  bow  and 
beckon  to  the  maiden  to  come  and  join  them.  She 
rises  to  her  feet,  but  at  first  refuses.  After  several 
unsuccessful  attempts  to  allure  her  into  the  dance, 
each  aspirant  for  her  hand  having  performed  a 
great  variety  of  figures  and  motions,  one  gains 
favor,  and  she  moves  into  the  company,  who  respect- 
fully form  around  her  a  circle  of  dancers,  while  she 
begins  to  join  in  the  movement  alone  in  the  center 
of  the  group. 

Then  she  retires  to  the  booth.  The  dancers  repeat 
with  greater  energy  and  variety  their  movements 
of  limbs  and  bodies  with  every  contortion  possible, 
and  with  chants  or  songs.  Again  the  maiden  con- 
descends to  join  the  company  of  her  admirers.  As 
she  dances,  still  alone,  she  keeps  her  eye  on  some 
favorite  to  encourage  him  in  his  efforts,  but  retires 
without  a  choice. 

The  singers  have  rested  their  voices,  but  not  their 
fingers,  which  beat  continuously  their  drums.  The 
dancers  have  not  ceased  their  motions  of  feet  or 
hands  for  three  hours,  though  they  have  greatly 
varied  them  from  quicker  pace  to  slower,  and  then 
anew  given  themselves  to  the  most  intense  demon- 
strations of  their  hope  to  win  the  maiden. 

53 


Chunda 

It  is  partly  a  matter  of  endurance  as  well  as  of 
skill  and  variety  in  which  the  contest  lies.  For 
two  hours  and  a  half  they  have  pleaded  with  inces- 
sant gesture  of  their  bodies,  brandishing  their  bows 
and  spears  to  increase  the  effect  of  their  motions. 
At  last  the  maiden  joins  the  dancers  to  make  her 
choice.  Each  suitor  has  pleaded  for  the  last  time, 
by  his  grace  of  form  and  movement,  for  her  favor 
and  hand.  The  happy  moment  arrives  for  one  who 
has  won  her  heart,  perhaps,  before  the  dance,  but 
unknown  to  him,  or  has  caught  her  favor  by  his 
pleas  of  gifts  as  well  as  by  strength,  endurance  and 
personal  attractions  combined.  She  enters  the  cir- 
cle hand  in  hand  with  him,  passes  through  all  the 
figures  of  the  dance,  and  retires  with  her  chosen  hus- 
band amid  the  loud  chants  and  demonstrations  of 
the  company. 

A  few  preliminaries  are  arranged.  The  young 
man  has  promised  to  bring  five  or  six  ponies  to  the 
uncle  or  brother  of  the  maiden,  and  claim  her  for 
his  bride.  The  chief  or  a  principal  man  of  the 
tribe  gives  his  consent  and  ratification  of  the  com- 
pact, and  the  marriage  dance  is  ended. 

Redford  had  been  a  spectator  of  this  scene,  for 
the  invitation  had  reached  him  that  morning  at  the 
post  from  Hut-tah  herself,  whose  daughter,  rescued 
years  before  in  this  very  canon  from  the  fury  of 
white  men,  was  thus  given  in  marriage  according 
to  the  customs  of  the  tribe  to  one  of  the  boldest  and 
most  stalwart  warriors. 

Herrera,  the  son  of  Ganado  Mucho,  the  chief  of 
54 


TSWANE 

the  Navajos  west  of  the  mountains,  had  won  the 
hand  of  the  maiden  Tswane.  Hut-tah  had  been 
faithful  to  her  vow,  and  with  a  smile  of  triumph  she 
came  up  to  Redford  and  said : 

"Teacher,  tell  the  Great  Father  at  Washington 
that  the  Xavajo  maidens  are  yet  content  to  tend 
their  flocks  and  keep  the  hogans  for  their  husbands. 
They  will  follow  in  the  ways  of  their  fathers  and 
keep  the  happy  traditions  of  those  to  whom  the 
Xavajo  god  gave  this  land." 

As  she  said  this  she  turned  to  Chos,  whom  she 
had  brought  with  her  to  Redford's  side,  and  beck- 
oned to  him  to  repeat  the  words  to  him.  Redford 
had  already  perceived  her  meaning,  and  was  reflect- 
ing upon  a  suitable  reply  to  this  woman  of  strong 
will  and  persistent  hostility  to  his  mission  to  these 
neglected  Apaches. 

"I  do  not  wonder  that  you  are  pleased  tonight  to 
have  your  daughter  faithful  to  your  training  and  to 
her  religion.  You  will  keep  her  near  you.  Do  you 
wish  her  life  to  be  wholly  like  your  own?" 

There  was  a  quick  remembrance  of  her  wrongs, 
of  her  fugitive  life  when  she  escaped  the  cruelty  of 
soldiers  by  hiding  in  caves  and  eating  only  wild 
fruits,  pinon  nuts  and  roots  stealthily  gathered, 
wandering  from  one  deserted  hogan  to  another  with 
her  little  child  only  to  find  the  hunted,  miserable 
remnants  of  her  tribe  in  the  same  unhappy  condition 
as  herself.  Her  cheeks  flushed  with  shame,  then 
grew  pale  with  anger,  as  she  turned  her  flashing 
black  eyes  upon  Redford. 

55 


Chunda 

"Can  I  forget,"  she  said,  "what  miseries  your 
people  have  laid  on  me  and  my  kindred?  I  waited 
here  till  you  sent  them  back  from  Bosque  Redondo, 
with  promises  of  tools  and  plows  which  you  had 
taught  them  to  use,  of  cattle  and  horses,  of  blankets 
and  clothes,  of  seed  corn  and  wheat  and  even  of 
schools  and  teachers  for  all  our  children.  Where 
are  these?  Where  are  the  cabins  they  were  to 
build  ?  Where  are  the  cattle  and  horses  and  sheep  ? 
You  have  told  us  to  raise  these  in  our  own  way,  and 
we  have  many  sheep.  We  have  made  our  blankets 
as  our  fathers  taught  us,  and  you  praise  them  and 
buy  them  of  us.  We  have  cultivated  these  valleys 
with  sticks  and  have  plenty  of  corn  and  beans  and 
melons.  We  have  the  peaches  from  the  orchards 
that  our  fathers  planted  in  this  canon,  and  we  have 
the  horses  we  need,  and  live  in  our  hogans  in  peace. 
What  more  do  we  want  ?  Let  us  alone,  and  do  not 
teach  our  girls  to  pity  and  despise  their  mothers,  nor 
our  boys  to  forget  the  deeds  and  traditions  of  their 
fathers  in  learning  the  wisdom  and  the  ways  of  the 
white  man." 

Redford  perceived  Hut-tah's  restraint  of  bitter 
words  and  angry  taunts.  She  had  seen  his  sincere 
desire  for  the  welfare  of  the  Navajos,  and  would 
have  extended  her  hand  to  him  had  she  not  hated 
his  countrymen  and  feared  their  power. 

"Hut-tah,"  he  replied,  "the  white  man  is  never 
content  with  the  life  his  fathers  have  lived,  nor  the 
things  they  have  learned,  nor  the  lands  they  have 
cultivated.    He  ever  seeks  better  things  for  his  chil- 

S6  - 


TSWANE 

dren  than  he  has  had  himself;  he  takes  from  the 
Indian  every  year  more  and  more  of  his  lands,  be- 
cause he  believes  that  the  red  man  is  unworthy  of 
the  land  that  the  wise  and  skillful  and  the  indus- 
trious can  use  and  make  better.  Your  children 
would  be  happy  to  live  like  him  and  by  his  side. 
Your  sons,  if  educated,  would  find  pride  in  what 
they  could  do  to  change  and  improve  these  wild 
lands  and  make  these  valleys  like  the  rich  home  lands 
of  the  white  man.  Your  daughters  would  be  re- 
spected, admired  and  loved  for  the  bright  and  happy 
homes  they  would  keep  and  their  knowledge  of  all 
things  beautiful  to  say  and  do ;  to  sew  and  to  sing ; 
to  make  comely  garments ;  to  adorn  their  houses 
and  tables,  and  prepare  healthful  and  tasteful  food ; 
to  be  as  beautiful  as  the  flowers  and  as  wise  as  their 
husbands  and  to  keep  their  love;  to  learn  of  the 
white  man's  religion  and  to  love  the  story  of  the 
Saviour  of  men  who  came  from  God  to  make  us  all 
like  his  children  in  the  spirit  land.  This  is  what 
we  would  like  to  do  for  the  Navajo  sons  and  daugh- 
ters, if  you  will  let  them  learn  our  ways," 

The  words  of  Redford,  slowly  interpreted  to  this 
poor  woman  into  whose  soul  had  entered  the  red-hot 
iron  of  the  white  man's  cruelty,  first  roused  her 
resentment.  Then  an  unspeakable  sadness  settled 
upon  her  face.  Her  vow  could  not  be  broken,  and 
she  gathered  all  the  passion  of  her  nature  into  this 
last  reply: 

"The  teacher's  words  are  as  the  flight  of  an  arrow 
straight  from  the  bow,  but  his  people  always  deceive 

57 


CriUNDA 

and  betray  us.  They  never  keep  their  promises. 
Why,  then,  should  he?  No,  senor,  take  from  us,  if 
you  will,  these  streams  and  plains  and  mountains; 
drive  us  on  toward  the  lands  where  there  is  no  water 
and  no  grass ;  but  you  cannot,  you  shall  not  take  our 
children  and  leave  us  desolate  like  the  leafless  trees, 
charred  and  bleached,  through  which  the  fires  have 
burned  and  the  winds  have  swept." 

Hut-tah  turned  away  as  the  last  words  fell  from 
the  interpreter's  lips.  As  she  slowly  moved  through 
the  flickering  firelight  toward  her  hogan  two  women 
who  had  been  standing  in  the  shadows  near  Red- 
ford,  and  intently  listening  to  these  impassioned 
pleadings,  quietly  followed  her  and  disappeared  into 
a  neighboring  hogan.  By  the  dim  light  Redford 
recognized  Hedipa  and  Chunda,  wdiose  hearts  had 
been  moved  again  by  the  words  of  Redford,  which 
he  had  gently  poured  into  their  willing  ears  the 
day  before  as  he  sat  by  their  camp  fire. 

Calling  to  Parker  to  bring  the  horses,  Redford 
rode  out  of  the  rincon  into  the  mighty  canon,  whose 
cliffs  and  massive  sides  rose  in  gigantic  height 
against  a  moonless  sky.  The  gloom  oppressed  him. 
His  soul  groped  for  light  on  his  path.  He  had 
thrown  himself  into  the  midst  of  the  Navajo  people 
and  pleaded  for  their  children  with  scarcely  a  move- 
ment among  them  in  his  favor.  To  return  unsuc- 
cessful from  such  an  adventure  was  unlike  his  recent 
experiences  among  the  other  Apaches.  His  hopes 
had  been  clouded,  his  faith  smitten  with  a  stagger- 
ing blow.     There  seemed  to  be  an  impassable  bar- 

58 


TSWANE 

rier  to  his  progress  in  the  dense  ignorance  and 
strong  prejudices  of  this  tribe,  and  the  all-powerful 
control  of  the  leaders  among  their  medicine  men  and 
their  women. 

The  walls  of  the  canon  seemed  to  close  above 
Redford  and  then  suddenly  to  part  as  if  riven  by  a 
lightning  flash.  The  wrench  to  his  strong  purpose 
had  loosened  and  he  cried  aloud,  "There  is  honey 
in  the  carcase  of  this  lion."  He  had  remembered 
the  ancient  riddle. 


59 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HEDIPA 

The  echo  of  horses'  hoofs  striking  against  the 
rocky  trail  which  winds  through  the  Chelly  Caiion 
was  heard  far  beyond  midnight,  as  the  Navajo 
dancers  and  the  gay-hearted  and  boisterous  specta- 
tors rode  away  from  the  rincon.  Their  laughter, 
mingled  with  savage  whoops  made  more  and  more 
indistinct  by  the  projecting  cliffs  and  turns  of  the 
main  canon,  gave  the  impression  of  ghostly  revelers 
in  the  lofty  caves  and  airy  castles  whose  turrets 
rose  against  the  night  sky  above  the  steep  walls  of 
this  mighty  gorge.  At  last  it  was  still  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  rincon,  where  the  inmates  of  three  or  four 
hogans  had  been  talking  over  the  merits  of  the 
competitors  in  the  dance  for  the  beautiful  maiden, 
Tswane. 

The  hogan  occupied  by  Hedipa  and  Chunda  was 
nearer  the  mouth  of  the  rincon,  a  hundred  rods  from 
that  of  her  cousin.  In  Hedipa's  humble  dwelling 
there  was  no  thought  of  rest.  She  had  been  pre- 
paring for  a  long  ride,  and  had  gathered  in  a  deer- 
skin bag  the  simple  food  which  would  sustain  her- 
self and  companions  till  her  return.  This  was  chiefly 
gray  flaky  cakes  of  corn  bread,  which  is  the  staple 
food  on  the  trail.  Like  crackers  or  the  hard-tack 
used  by  soldiers  and  seamen,  it  does  not  change  by 

60 


Hedipa 

age  or  conditions  of  climate.  A  roll  of  dried  peaches 
and  strips  of  dried  mutton  and  venison  completed 
the  supply  of  food. 

Near  the  hogan  three  horses  were  tethered  by 
lariats  of  horsehair,  and  rolls  of  blankets  and  skins 
were  fastened  to  the  Apache  saddles  and  girths  over 
their  backs. 

It  was  long  past  midnight.  The  clouds  were 
hanging  darkly  over  the  canon,  but  rifts  in  them 
indicated  the  passage  of  the  moon  near  the  zenith. 
As  the  clouds  thickened  Hedipa  came  out  of  the 
hogan  and  looked  anxiously  up  the  rincon.  All  was 
quiet  in  the  hogans  above  her,  and  her  low  hoot  was 
answered  by  Hot-si,  who  approached  from  the 
shadow  of  the  cliffs  and  untethered  the  horses. 

As  the  ponies  stopped  in  the  rear  of  the  hogan 
Hedipa  and  Chunda  came  out  and  silently  mounted. 
The  food  sack  was  fastened  by  thongs  to  the  saddle 
of  Hedipa's  pony,  and  Chunda  sat  upon  the  blankets 
which  were  girded  upon  her  horse.  At  this  moment 
a  sudden  gust  of  wind  swept  up  the  cafion,  and  a 
low  rumble  of  thunder  was  heard  above  its  walls. 
A  storm  cloud  floated  high  over  this  narrow  cleft 
of  the  mountain  mesa.  It  was  a  favorable  time  to 
escape  unobserved  from  the  rincon,  and  the  ponies 
were  guided  hastily  along  the  edges  of  the  sandy  bed 
of  an  arroyo  leading  through  the  rincon  to  avoid 
the  click  of  their  hoofs  upon  the  stones.  As  they 
turned  up  the  main  canon  they  struck  into  a  well- 
worn  trail.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  Hedipa  spoke 
in  an  audible  voice : 

6i 


Chunda 

"Hot-si,  have  you  told  Aha-la-ni  to  meet  us  at 
the  Casa  Blanca?" 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  Aha-la-ni  and  her  cousin 
already  pass  the  rincon  riding  toward  it." 

"Were  there  men  with  them?" 

"Two  men  and  three  girls." 

"Did  you  speak  to  them?" 

"No,  they  were  riding  fast  in  the  shadow  of  the 
wall." 

"Chunda,"  said  the  mother  cheerfully,  "you  will 
not  be  alone." 

"Ah,  She-ma,  but  I  must  leave  you  so  long!" 

"She-nal-le,  even  that  is  better  than  to  stay  with 
these  Klee-char-ee."  She  hissed  the  word  that  called 
the  men  of  her  own  tribe  dogs. 

The  scenes  of  past  years  had  been  vividly  recalled, 
wath  their  memories  of  shame  and  womanly  wrath, 
by  the  marriage  dance  that  night.  Hedipa  loved 
her  daughter  too  well  to  fasten  her  to  such  a  life 
as  she  had  herself  endured  and  witnessed  around 
her  in  the  years  of  her  widowhood. 

They  rode  in  silence  again,  Hot-si,  two  or  three 
rods  ahead,  carrying  his  trusty  Winchester  in  front 
of  him. 

"She-ma,  shall  I  find  mothers  like  you  among  the 
white  women?"  timidly  asked  Chunda,  as  they 
halted  for  a  few  moments  while  Hot-si  tried  the 
ford  of  the  Chelly,  The  trail  often  ran  across  the 
stream,  for,  in  its  many  windings,  the  current  was 
forced  close  against  the  straight  walls  of  the  cafion, 
where  there  was  no  room  for  the  passage  of  horses. 

62 


Hedipa 

"The  white  mothers  are  kind  and  good,  Chunda. 
We  may  trust  the  teacher's  words  more  than  the 
words  of  the  Shamans.    The  white  women  will  teach 
you  like  their  own  children.    Why  should  they  seek 
out  the  daughters  of  the  Navajos  so  far  away,  when 
they  have  so  many  of  their  own  to  nurture  and  train 
for  their  homes?     Their  religion  teaches  them  to 
love  the  poor  and  the  homeless,  and  to  make  them 
know  the  way  of  a  better  life.     I  heard  the  teacher 
yesterday,  as  he  was  sitting  under  the  cliff  alone 
waiting  for  the  dance,  singing  to  his  God.     I  was 
behind  the  rock  with  Aha-la-ni  and  Chos  talking 
about  Tswane.     I  asked  Chos  to  listen  and  tell  me 
what  he  said  while  he  sung  or  prayed,  I  could  not 
tell  which.     Chos  listened  a  while  and  looked  very 
sad.    Then  he  said  to  me,  T  used  to  hear  the  white 
people  sing  that  hymn  in  the  school  by  the  great 
sea,  and  it  seems  to  me  like  one  of  the  echoes  in  this 
rincon.'    Then  he  told  me  in  Navajo  what  the  words 
were.    I  remember  these  only : 

'  Thou,  O  Christ,  art  all  I  want; 
More  than  all  in  thee  I  find; 
Raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the  faint. 
Heal  the  sick,  and  lead  the  blind.' 

Chos  said  he  used  to  sing  it  in  Navajo  when  he  went 
down  by  the  shore  of  the  great  water  all  alone." 

"She-ma,  She-ma,"  said  Chunda,  with  tearful 
eyes,  "I  will  learn  to  be  like  the  white  women,  and 
come  back  and  show  my  people  what  they  pray 
and  how  they  live!" 

"Yes!  Chunda,  learn  it  for  me.  Come  back  to 
tell  me  of  something  better  than  I  have  yet  known— 

63 


Chunda 

something  to  make  my  heart  lighter  and  to  give  me 
hope !" 

Hedipa  dared  not  say  more  lest  she  should  betray 
to  the  daughter  her  agony  of  dread  and  foreboding 
that  she  should  not  see  her  loved  child  again  when 
she  should  be  taken  far  over  the  plains  behind  those 
mountain  ranges  which  they  would  see  when  they 
had  left  the  canon. 

They  had  reached  a  wide  basin  in  the  gorge.  As 
they  again  crossed  the  stream  they  ascended  a  beach 
of  gravel  and  sand  that  rose  eight  or  ten  feet  from 
the  bottom  of  the  cafion. 

On  this  elevated  shelf  of  land,  once  an  island 
when  the  waters  filled  the  rock-girt  bay,  was  a  hogan 
partly  surrounded  by  a  few  peach  trees.  In  the 
light  of  a  fire  burning  before  the  entrance  human 
forms  were  flitting  in  unusual  haste  at  this  hour  of 
the  night.  Hot-si  had  ridden  forward,  while  Hedipa 
and  Chunda  halted  on  the  edge  of  the  level  ground. 
He  returned  in  a  cheerful  mood,  bringing  word  that 
another  girl  was  to  join  the  company  with  her 
mother.  Moved  by  Redford's  pleading  at  Chin-a-li, 
she  had  been  easily  persuaded  by  Aha-la-ni  and  her 
little  band,  that  had  passed  up  the  caiion  two  hours 
earlier,  to  make  the  sacrifice  possible  only  to  a 
mother  in  separating  herself  from  a  loved  child  that 
she  might  have  a  higher  womanhood.  In  the  mother 
love  lies  the  possibility  of  redeeming  the  most  lowly 
and  ignorant. 

Hedipa  now  rode  quickly  forward  to  the  hogan, 
and  with  hand  outstretched  to  the  mother  and  child 

64 


Hedipa 

begged  them  to  come  quickly,  for  Casa  Blanca  was 
still  a  mile  away.  They  both  mounted  a  stout  pony, 
and  by  half  an  hour's  ride  over  a  trail  now  smooth 
and  easy  for  the  horses  Hedipa  and  her  companions 
joined  the  others  waiting  among  the  ruins  of  an 
ancient  village  under  the  cliff  of  Casa  Blanca. 

The  white  walls  of  this  old  castle  could  be  seen 
sixty  feet  above  them,  but  it  is  now  an  almost  inac- 
cessible dwelling  of  the  past.  Those  who  have 
climbed  to  it  by  ladders  and  ropes  have  found  its 
masonry  unbroken,  its  rooms  preserved  with  their 
cedar  vegas  still  supporting  the  roof  which  sheltered 
the  cliff  dwellers  centuries  ago. 

There  were  a  few  hurried  greetings,  and  then  the 
three  men  rode  forward,  followed  by  the  women 
and  girls  as  fast  as  their  sure-footed  ponies  could 
carry  them  up  the  caiion.  The  clouds  were  still 
threatening,  and  they  had  twelve  miles  to  ride  before 
they  could  reach  the  head  of  the  canon  and  ascend 
to  the  wooded  table-land  over  which  they  were  to 
travel  sixty  miles  farther  to  the  agency  at  Fort 
Defiance. 

These  women  had  kept  from  the  knowledge  of 
those  who  were  so  bitterly  opposed,  their  desire  to 
send  their  daughters  to  the  school,  but  had  timidly 
confided  to  Hedipa  their  purpose  when  they  learned 
of  her  interview  and  appointment  with  Redford. 
They  had  found  their  girls  strangely  willing  to 
be  separated  so  long  from  their  people.  A  divine 
impulse  was  moving  these  simple-hearted  chil- 
dren, of  that  other  fold  among  the  nations,  to  rescue 

65 


Chunda 

them  from  the  bondage  of  nature  worship  and  the 
powers  of  darkness  and  bring  them  into  the  hght  of 
the  world's  Redeemer.  Through  the  touch  of  the 
Great  Spirit  these  women  had  been  unconsciously 
endued  with  an  heroic  spirit.  But  their  hearts  some- 
times took  counsel  of  their  fears  as  they  silently  rode 
through  the  gloom  of  the  canon.  The  locality  was 
almost  sacred  to  their  traditions.  The  spirits  of 
their  ancestors  might  not  be  willing  to  have  them 
break  away  the  ties  that  held  them  to  their  tribal 
customs  and  faith.  There  were  ominous  sounds 
around  them.  The  roll  of  distant  thunder  came 
nearer,  and  the  little  strip  of  sky  above  them 
lightened  up  with  flashes  near  the  horizon  but  hid- 
den from  them  by  the  dark  cliffs.  The  company 
quickened  their  pace  as  they  entered  another  great 
basin  near  the  head  of  the  cafion.  It  was  the  most 
wonderful  part  of  the  gorge,  two  miles  long  and 
half  a  mile  wide.  The  walls  rose  to  a  majestic 
height  capped  with  thirty  or  forty  distinct  peaks  and 
pinnacles  of  varied  shapes.  Towers  with  turrets, 
palaces  with  battlements,  cathedrals  with  steeples 
rise  before  the  traveler  as  he  now  looks  upon  them 
from  that  trail.  But  to  these  Navajo  men  and 
women  in  the  twilight  of  this  stormy  morning  only 
the  boldest  peaks  stood  out  against  the  angry  sky. 
The  drops  of  rain  began  to  fall  from  the  heavy 
clouds  rolling  swiftly  over  them.  The  glare  of  the 
lightning  became  almost  blinding.  The  thunder- 
claps reverberating  in  the  gorge  behind  them  seemed 
to  have  opened  the  flood  barriers  of  the  sky  as  the 

66 


Hedipa 

Navajos  rode  into  a  cave,  a  curiosity  wrought  by 
the  elements  in  the  isolated  cliff,  rising  at  the  inter- 
section of  the  main  cafion  with  a  shorter  one  through 
which  runs  the  trail  leading  out  to  the  uplands. 

This  was  their  chosen  hiding  place  for  the  day  till 
they  could  be  sure  they  were  not  followed  by  their 
angry  relatives.  It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  that 
they  rode  into  the  recesses  of  the  cavern  from  the 
fury  of  the  storm.  The  women  soon  lighted  a  fire 
with  pinon  wood  taken  from  the  clefts,  where  it  had 
been  stored  for  such  emergencies.  Their  blankets 
were  laid  out  on  the  rocky  floor,  and  while  Hot-si 
and  one  of  the  men  watched  near  the  entrance  of 
the  cave  against  surprise  by  hostile  pursuers  the 
rest  sought  to  sleep  away  their  fatigue  in  the  early 
morning  hours. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  ere  the  forenoon 
was  ended.  The  women  had  finished  their  meal  of 
maize  flakes  and  peach  sauce  cooked  in  an  earthen 
pot,  drawn  from  one  of  the  crevices  of  the  cave, 
with  water  taken  from  the  turbid  stream  rippling  by 
their  place  of  refuge.  As  no  effort  had  been  made 
to  follow  them,  they  concluded  that  their  absence  was 
noticed  only  as  a  visit  up  the  canon  or  for  the  inspec- 
tion of  their  flocks  of  sheep  feeding  on  the  mesa. 

But  the  sense  of  fear  which  impels  one  forward  in 
escaping  from  an  unseen  foe  now  yielded  to  depres- 
sion in  the  women.  They  went  out  of  the  cavern 
one  by  one  lest  the  others  should  perceive  their 
sorrow.  They  crossed  the  stream  and  looked  back 
upon  the  sheltering  cliff.    Its  strange  shape  attracted 

67 


Chunda 

their  attention  as  never  before.  Looking  down  to 
tlie  main  gorge,  they  saw  the  pillar  of  El  Capitan  as 
it  rises  three  hundred  feet  into  the  sky,  like  some 
mighty  god  of  their  tribe  guarding  the  abode  of  the 
spirits  of  their  people.  It  looked  down  upon  the 
cliffs  in  which  was  their  sheltering  cave.  These 
seem  to  rise  like  the  gigantic  figure  of  a  mother; 
her  shoulders  and  bosom  bared  to  the  sky,  to  which 
her  face  was  turned  in  agony,  while  her  outstretched 
arms  enfolded  in  despairing  embrace  on  each  side 
figures  of  lovely  maiden  daughters  fallen  in  agon- 
ized shapes  of  death  upon  the  mother's  lap  and  at 
her  feet.  This  carving  by  mighty  floods,  and  the 
winds  and  frosts  of  ages  unknown,  seemed  to  ex- 
press their  own  fears,  and  helpless  wailing  and 
laments  broke  out  from  one  and  then  another. 
Hedipa  alone  was  calm,  and  her  voice  hushed  them. 
"Women,"  she  said,  "you  are  yielding  to  the 
tempting  spirit  of  evil.  The  Navajo  god  does  not 
thus  teach  us  by  senseless  rocks  the  future  of  our 
children.  No,  my  sisters,  the  courage  of  a  good 
purpose  must  not  thus  fall  before  the  dread  of  our 
woman  hearts  and  our  thoughts  of  loneliness  and 
sorrow.  By  our  hopeful  faces  and  cheerful  words 
let  us  make  the  hearts  of  our  daughters  strong. 
The  rain  god  and  the  sun  god  have  both  spoken  to 
us  that  our  children  shall  return  to  us  as  they  have 
returned  to  bless  the  land.  Let  us  dry  our  tears  and 
hide  our  foolish  grief.  Come!  we  must  ride  today 
to  the  cliff  of  the  eagle,  on  yonder  mesa,  before  the 
sun  has  set." 

68 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   ANCIENT    NAVAJO 

Redford  and  Parker  returned  toward  the  trading 
post  at  Chin-a-li  before  the  Navajos  had  dispersed 
from  the  rincon  dance.  Redford  had  measured  the 
strength  of  the  associations  which  bound  them  to 
the  traditions  of  their  ancestors.  He  was  deeply 
impressed  with  the  steadfastness  of  these  children 
of  nature,  and  was  strengthened  in  an  opinion,  early 
formed,  that  if,  by  wise  and  patient  training,  they 
could  be  freed  from  these  superstitions  they  might 
be  as  strong  in  the  qualities  of  good  American  citi- 
zenship as  they  were  now  in  their  barbarism. 

It  was  not  easy  to  ride  down  the  canon  in  that 
dark  and  stormy  night,  for  their  horses  were  not 
familiar  with  the  trail,  and  the  presence  in  this 
tortuous  gorge  of  so  many  strange  Navajos  from 
all  parts  of  the  reservation  added  to  the  peril  of  the 
lonely  ride.  But  Redford  pushed  forward  through 
the  gloom  with  only  occasional  inquiries  of  his  guide 
to  break  the  silence  of  the  way,  so  intently  was  he 
estimating  the  Navajo  character  which  had  unfolded 
to  his  study  in  the  incidents  of  these  few  days  in 
this  majestic  canon. 

The  post  trader  had  pitched  a  tent  for  his  guests 
under  the  first  high  bluff  at  Chin-a-H,  in  a  recess 
some  distance  from  the  trail.     There  Redford  and 

69 


Chunda 

his  guide  spent  the  night  undisturbed  in  a  deep  and 
refreshing  sleep.  Early  the  next  morning  Parker 
went  for  the  road  horses,  which  had  been  taken  to 
pasture  six  miles  away,  and  for  two  or  three  hours 
Redford  had  promised  himself  the  luxury  of  an 
undisturbed  review  of  the  recent  events  which  were 
leading  up  to  his  cherished  purpose.  The  exhilarat- 
ing air  and  a  restful  sleep  had  dispelled  weariness, 
and  he  was  in  full  accord  with  the  wonderful  aspects 
of  nature  around  him,  glorified  by  the  light  of  the 
brilliant  day  that  was  casting  every  moment  into 
deeper  shadows  and  more  vivid  shapes  the  crevices 
and  cliffs  of  the  lofty  walls  of  the  canon. 

The  scenes  of  savage  life  which  had  been  passing 
here  for  three  or  four  centuries  began  to  move 
across  his  vision.  He  longed  to  gather  up  the  stories 
of  revelry,  of  strife  and  of  romantic  love  that  Time's 
pencil  had  recorded  on  those  black  crags  and  those 
massive  strata  whose  faces  were  worn  smooth  by 
wind  and  rain,  and  ancient  floods.  As  his  fancy 
grew  he  wished  for  the  presence  of  some  spirit  of 
the  canon  to  tell  him  the  weird  tales,  or,  at  least, 
to  give  him  some  definite  history  of  this  people  that 
now  held  this  heritage  of  extinct  tribes. 

He  was  awakened  from  these  reveries  by  the 
sight  of  a  group  of  five  or  six  horsemen  riding 
toward  his  tent  from  the  trading  post.  Two  Nava- 
jos  on  a  powerful  horse  attracted  his  close  attention 
as  they  drew  near.  The  others  dismounted  and  with 
kindly  salutations  entered  the  tent. 

Chos,  one  of  the  double  riders,  with  his  com- 
70 


THE     ANCIENT     NAVAJO 


The  Ancient  Navajo 

panion,  an  old  and  grizzled  Navajo,  remained  on 
the  horse  that  had  borne  them  more  slowly  across 
the  shingle  and  over  the  stony  arroyo  in  front  of 
the  tent. 

"Buenos  dias,  senor,"  said  Chos,  'T  have  brought 
the  ancient  Navajo  to  talk  a  while  with  the  messen- 
ger from  Washington." 

Redford  returned  the  salutation,  and  cominer  for- 
ward  extended  his  hand  to  the  old  man,  w^io  had 
now  dismounted.  He  was  nearly  blind,  but  his 
once  stalwart  frame  was  quite  erect,  and  he  grasped 
Redford's  hand  and  courteously  embraced  him,  then 
leisurely  squatted  on  the  ground  within  the  tent.  A 
pouch  of  tobacco  was  at  once  put  into  his  hand,  and 
the  old  man  fumbled  at  his  belt  for  his  cigarette 
folders  of  dried  husks.  Redford  handed  him  a 
match,  and  for  a  few^  moments  the  Navajo  puffed 
in  silence,  while  Chos  engaged  in  a  talk  with  Red- 
ford, describing  the  effect  upon  the  Navajos  of  the 
address  he  had  made  a  few  days  before  at  Chin-a-li. 
The  old  man,  he  said,  had  listened  with  eagerness 
to  his  appeal  and  desired  to  speak  to  him  of  his 
people. 

"Herrera,"  said  Chos,  "has  lived  one  hundred  and 
ten  years,  and  knows  all  the  traditions  of  the  Na- 
vajos." 

"Ah,"  said  Redford,  "he  is  most  welcome.  In 
what  part  of  the  reservation  does  he  live  ?" 

"Herrera  is  the  special  care  of  the  whole  tribe," 
replied  Chos.  "The  young  men  contend  each  year 
for  the  honor  of  caring  for  him,  for  he  has  seen 

71 


Chunda 

nearly  all  their  fathers  who  have  died,  and  does 
not  tire  of  telling  them  the  deeds  of  their  warriors, 
which  stir  their  hearts  to  courage.  They  think  it 
pleases  the  spirits  of  their  ancestors  to  treat  him 
kindly  and  to  give  him  food  and  shelter  in  their 
hogans." 

"Herrera,"  said  Redford,  turning  to  the  old  Na- 
vajo as  Chos  interpreted  his  words,  "I  would  gladly 
learn  from  you  the  story  of  your  tribe.  There  are 
many  white  men  who  would  like  to  know  about 
the  oldest  people  in  this  country,  and  the  Great 
Father  at  Washington  keeps  many  men  in  search  of 
the  histories  of  all  these  Indian  tribes.  How  long 
have  the  Navajos  been  in  this  land?" 

"Senor,"  answered  the  Ancient,  'T  am  an  old 
man.  Three  hundred  years  my  people  have  been 
here.  There  used  to  be  many  more  Navajos  than 
now." 

"From  what  country  did  they  come  to  these 
plains?" 

"From  beyond  those  mountains,"  pointing  to  the 
north,  "and  from  the  sunrising." 

"Were  they  great  warriors?" 

"They  were  many  and  strong.  None  could  with- 
stand the  Dinne  who  remained  near  here.  But 
others  went  everywhere,  far  to  the  South,  and 
roamed  from  the  great  waters  in  the  West — Tool- 
che-air  and  Kay-eel-chow — to  the  country  beyond 
the  great  river  Kayee  (Rio  Grande)." 

"Did  they  ever  live  in  the  houses  of  mud  and 
stone?" 

72 


The  Ancient  Navajo 

"No,  senor,  they  ever  wandered  from  one  country 
to  another,  and  took  the  nahla  (maize)  which 
the  house  people  grew  upon  their  lands,  and  carried 
away  their  cotton  cloth  and  blankets.  Then  they 
hunted  deer  and  antelope  and  buffalo,  and  had 
much  meat,  for  these  were  plenty  among  the  moun- 
tains and  on  the  mesas." 

"Did  the  Navajos  find  here,  when  they  came,  the 
people  that  lived  in  these  caves?" 

"No,  sefior,  the  cave  houses  were  as  you  see  them 
when  they  came  to  this  canon.  The  people  had 
gone.  The  traditions  of  my  people  say  that  they 
must  ha\'e  died  by  great  winds  and  by  famine  when 
there  was  no  rain  to  give  them  nahla,  and  no  deer 
or  antelope  to  kill  in  the  woodlands." 

"What  was  the  name  of  the  ancient  Navajos?" 
Redford  asked,  with  increasing  interest. 

The  Ancient  lifted  his  head  higher,  as  he  saw  the 
purpose  of  this  question : 

"Our  people  in  the  far  North  were  called  Ten- 
neh,  and  our  name  is  like  it  now.  We  call  our- 
selves Dinne  when  we  speak  in  our  own  tongue." 

"Were  the  Apaches  your  kindred,  too?" 

"They  were  our  brothers  of  the  same  great 
family.  They  broke  away  in  bands,  and  hunted 
buffalo  and  antelope  on  the  plains,  and  made  war 
upon  the  Pueblos  until  the  white  men  came.  Their 
language  is  much  the  same  after  many  years,  and 
their  name  is  changed  to  N'Day.  Far  out  upon  the 
eastern  plains  they  were  called  Tindau." 

"Were  the  Navajos  great  warriors?"  asked  Red- 
73 


Chunda 

ford,  perceiving  his  jealousy  of  the  fame  of  the 
Apache  peoples  in  war. 

"My  people,"  said  the  Ancient,  "were  always  first 
and  in  greater  numbers  than  the  Apaches.  They 
never  gave  the  Pueblos  rest  for  a  long  time,  but 
attacked  their  villages  and  seized  their  women  and 
children  to  make  of  them  wives  and  warriors  in  the 
tribe." 

"Did  they  live  only  by  these  raids?"  said  Red- 
ford. 

"As  now,  they  brought  water  from  the  streams 
to  make  maize  and  melons  and  beans  grow  as  you 
have  seen  at  Chin-a-li." 

"But  did  they  not,  also,  produce  cotton  and  have 
flocks  of  sheep  and  make  their  clothing  by  weav- 
ing?" 

"They  killed  much  game,"  said  the  Ancient,  "and 
liked  better  to  wear  the  skins  of  deer  and  buffalo, 
until  the  Pueblos  taught  them  how  to  make  blankets 
by  weaving  wool  from  the  sheep  they  captured." 

"But  why  did  not  your  people  conquer  and  de- 
stroy all  the  Pueblos,  if  you  were  so  powerful  ?" 

"Seiior,"  said  the  Ancient,  "they  would  never 
make  war  as  one  people,  nor  obey  one  chief  long 
enough.  They  had  many  clans,  and  many  chiefs, 
men  who  would  not  join  together  to  destroy  all  the 
Pueblo  tribes.  There  is  no  highest  chief  among  us, 
and  the  young  men  may  oppose  and  defy  any  chief. 
The  Navajos  wished  to  rob  the  Pueblos  of  their 
crops  and  their  clothing.  It  was  easier  than  to  work 
in  the  fields  or  at  weaving  for  themselves,  until  the 

74 


The  Ancient  Navajo 

white  men  came  from  the  South,  and  then  long  after 
from  the  East,  and  drove  our  people  back  to  their 
own  country  and  forced  them  to  keep  at  peace  with 
the  Pueblos." 

"Tell  me  of  your  religion,  Herrera.  Do  your 
people  worship  one  god  or  many  gods  ?" 

"Senor,  the  Navajos  pray  much  to  the  Sun  and 
to  the  Moon,  because  there  is  a  being  in  the  Sun 
and  one  in  the  Moon.  The  Shamans  call  them  the 
Sun  Father  and  the  Moon  Mother.  They  have  two 
children,  Masena  and  Oyo-ya-na,  who  make  the 
rain  to  fall  and  whom  we  honor  in  our  dances.  And 
there  are  spirits  of  the  clouds,  Shi-na-na,  who  give 
us  good  seasons  for  our  field  crops  and  our  flocks. 
And  the  Shamans  teach  us  to  pray  to  the  great  war- 
riors, their  fathers,  whose  spirits  are  in  the  bears 
and  in  the  snakes,  and  in  the  trees  and  in  the  stones. 
We  pray  to  some  spirits  because  they  are  bad,  and 
to  drive  them  away  from  hurting  us,  and  we  wor- 
ship spirits  that  are  good  because  they  can  help  us." 

"But  is  there  not  some  great  God  over  all  these  ?" 
again  asked  Redford,  with  a  great  longing  to  hear 
him  confess  to  a  belief  in  the  Father  of  all,  toward 
whom  these  people  were  reaching  up  in  their  faith. 

"The  Shamans  have  told  us  of  the  Navajo  god 
who  is  a  woman  and  controls  our  future  lives.  She 
has  power  over  the  Great  Alarsh  beyond  the  lake 
in  the  underworld  to  which  our  spirits  return. 
There  the  good  Navajos  must  go  to  join  their 
fathers  and  mothers.  But  she  will  not  open  the 
way  to  let  a  bad  Navajo  go  back  to  his  ancestors." 

75 


ClIUNDA 

Rcdford  had  risen  to  his  feet  to  hear  this  reply, 
but  sat  down  again  disappointed.  He  turned  the 
thoughts  of  the  Ancient  back  to  the  present  condi- 
tion of  his  people. 

*'Why  do  you  not  dwell  in  houses  like  the  Pueblos, 
Herrera  ?" 

"The  customs  of  a  people  follow  from  what  they 
do,"  said  the  Ancient.  "There  is  no  more  hunting 
for  deer  and  buffalo,  and  even  the  birds  are  few. 
The  people  have  learned  to  raise  sheep  on  these 
plains,  and  the  men  must  have  horses,  and  they 
pass  from  one  pasturage  to  another  with  their 
flocks  and  herds,  and  in  summer  they  seek  the  places 
by  the  streams  for  their  corn  planting,  and  so  they 
live  in  wickiups  or  tepees.  In  winter  they  dwell 
in  hogans  upon  the  uplands,  w-here  the  trees  shelter 
and  warm  them." 

"Why  do  the  Navajos  fear  the  Shamans  so  much, 
Herrera?"  asked  Redford,  cautiously  approaching 
a  subject  which  might  involve  him  in  future 
peril. 

"The  Shaman  is  taught  by  the  elders  how  to  cure 
sickness  and  overcome  the  effects  of  evil  spirits  in 
all  diseases.  The  youth  who  devotes  himself  to  the 
life  of  a  Shaman  must  learn  from  other  Shamans 
for  a  year,  and  separate  himself  from  his  tribe, 
keeping  long  watches  by  night  and  day,  without 
food,  in  the  highest  places  of  the  mountains  and 
cliffs.  The  spirits  talk  to  him  in  dreams.  They 
teach  him  the  future  of  children  and  what  names 
they  shall  give  to  mothers  for  their  babes.     The 

76 


The  Ancient  Navajo 

Shaman  learns  how  to  heal  different  parts  of  the 
body,  and  the  uses  of  leaves  and  roots  and  charms 
for  medicine.  Their  songs  and  dances  expel  the 
spirits  from  bodies  of  the  sick,  and  they  prepare 
the  warrior  for  battle,  and  the  sick  for  their  dying 
by  hearing  their  confessions.  So  they  protect  the 
warriors  from  their  enemies  by  their  prayers  and 
bring  victory  in  battle." 

"But  do  not  the  Navajos  like  the  houses  which 
the  Great  Father's  men  have  taught  them  how  to 
build?" 

"Sefior,  according  to  the  customs  of  the  tribe, 
they  must  be  destroyed  when  one  dies  in  one  of 
them.     Why,  then,  is  it  good  for  the  Navajo?" 

Redford  did  not  wish  to  discuss  the  customs  of 
the  tribe,  and  turned  his  thoughts  away  to  other 
memories  of  his  people. 

"Herrera,  have  not  the  Navajos  had  many  wars 
in  this  cafion?" 

"Yes,senor,the  Dinne  have  fought  here  with  the 
Americans  many  times.  Ten  years  ago,  they  were 
conquered  again  and  again.  My  people  were  hunted 
like  deer  over  these  plains  and  through  these  canons. 
The  warriors  of  the  Great  Father  were  too  strong 
for  the  Navajos,  who  fled  to  these  caves  and  hid  in 
these  rincons,  but  when  the  thunder  of  their  great 
guns  died  away  in  these  gorges  there  was  no 
heart  left  in  our  people.  The  older  men  had  been 
killed,  the  women  and  children  and  the  flocks  were 
captured  and  driven  away ;  the  peach  orchards  were 
cut  down,  and  for  those  who  were  hidden  among 

77 


Chunda 

these  rocks  there  was  Httle  to  eat  but  the  roots  and 
pinon  nuts  on  these  trees." 

The  ancient  Navajo  long  and  sadly  looked  upon 
the  ground  in  silence. 

"What  did  the  soldiers  do  with  their  captives?" 
at  last  Redford  ventured  to  ask. 

"They  took  them  over  the  mountains  by  a  long 
and  hard  trail  to  Bosque.  Many  other  captives  were 
gathered  there  from  the  Apache  tribes.  But  in  the 
long  journey  our  people  died,  sick  with  fevers  and 
frozen  with  cold.  Their  bodies  were  dropped  by  the 
side  of  the  trail.  Mothers  were  parted  from  their 
children,  and  parents  sank  down  exhausted  to  die, 
away  from  the  home  of  their  mothers  and  fathers 
among  these  mountains." 

"Do  you  remember,  Ancient,"  said  Redford  ten- 
derly, "when  the  Navajos  came  back?" 

"Ah,  yes,  senor,  we  had  wagons  and  horses  then 
to  bring  us.  The  way  was  short,  for  the  people 
were  glad.  How  happy  we  were  to  see  these  moun- 
tains and  plains  once  more,  and  be  near  to  the 
spirits  of  our  fathers!" 

The  old  Navajo  was  agitated  already  by  the 
recital  of  his  people's  wrongs,  and  Redford  would 
not  prolong  the  interview. 

As  he  rose  to  his  feet  Redford  asked  the  Ancient 
if  he  could  give  him  something  useful  in  return  for 
this  valued  conversation. 

The  old  man  replied  that  his  sight  was  nearly 
gone  and  his  teeth  were  worn  out,  so  that  he  could 
not  chew  his  food.     He  would  like  a  knife  that 

78 


The  Ancient  Navajo 

would  cut  his  food  into  small  pieces.  Redford 
quickly  drew  from  his  belt  a  sheath  knife  mounted 
with  silver,  and  gave  it  to  Herrera.  The  old  man 
touched  the  keen  blade  with  his  fingers,  and  his 
face  lighted  up  with  pleasure. 

"Gracias,  seiior.  Muchas  gracias,"  he  said,  and 
slipping  it  down  in  the  leggin  of  his  moccasin 
mounted  the  horse  which  Chos  held  firmly  till  he 
was  seated;  then,  leaping  to  his  saddle  in  front  of 
the  old  man,  they  rode  away  with  an  "Adios"  just 
as  the  guide  drove  up  from  the  trading  post  with  the 
buckboard  packed  for  the  return  to  Fort  Defiance. 


79 


CHAPTER  X 

A    RIDE   TO    FREEDOM 

The  September  sun  was  falling  behind  the  high 
mesa  which  overhangs  the  site  of  Fort  Defiance 
agency,  in  the  Navajo  reservation,  as  Redforcl  and 
Parker  descended  into  the  gorge  through  which  the 
Red  Bonito  rushes  over  a  bottom  rugged  with 
bowlders  and  ledges.  The  narrow  trail  which  runs 
along  the  sides  of  the  canon  is  cut  out  of  the  rock, 
and  was  so  narrow  for  the  buckboard  that  scarcely 
two  inches  from  the  wheels,  in  some  places,  the 
steep  declivity  descended  to  the  roaring  stream.  A 
single  uncertain  step  of  the  horses  or  an  undue 
swaying  of  the  buckboard  would  have  hurled  it 
with  horses,  passengers  and  freight  to  the  cruel 
rocks  below. 

Redford  hardly  drew  breath  as  they  crossed 
these  dangerous  ridges,  but,  with  an  instinct  of 
some  good  turn  to  his  adventures  awaiting  him,  he 
did  not  doubt  that  he  would  escape  the  peril.  The 
long  drive  through  mesa  parks  and  over  plains  girt 
with  brightly  colored  buttes,  and  mountain  ranges 
brilliant  in  the  transparent  air  and  sheen  of  a  daz- 
zling sky,  had  invigorated  his  spirit  and  filled  it  with 
hope.  As  they  drove  over  the  bridges  near  the 
agency  a  lovely  girl  of  twenty  years  on  a  chestnut 
pony  rode  up  joyfully  to  greet  his  return.    Her  dark 


A  Ride  to  Freedom 

brown  eyes  sparkled  with  delight  and  a  pure-toned, 
cheery  voice  rung  out  its  welcome : 

"Oh,  papa,  how  glad  I  am  that  you  are  safely 
here!  And  such  wonderful  luck!  Why,  papa,  the 
women  have  been  coming  all  day  into  the  agency 
with  their  girls  riding  behind  them  and  eager  for 
the  school.  Fifteen  little  ones  of  all  ages  have  been 
reported  to  the  agent  by  their  mothers.  He  showed 
me  to  every  one  of  them,  and  I  was  so  happy  I  could 
hardly  keep  my  dignity,  for  they  know  that  I  am  to 
be  the  teacher  of  their  children,  and  when  they  had 
looked  me  over  about  a  minute  they  came  up  to  me 
and  squeezed  my  hands,  and  then  tossed  a  sprinkle 
of  yellow  powder  on  me.  Ugh !  I  was  a  sight 
before  they  got  through  with  me,  but  I  laughed  and 
smiled,  and  they  were  satisfied  at  this,  which  they 
thought  a  good  sign.  And  this  evening,  papa,  not 
half  an  hour  ago,  three  squaws  came  in  with  a 
young  chief  and  three  larger  girls  from  Eagle  Cliff. 
They  told  Major  Culvert,  the  agent,  that  your  words 
at  Chin-a-li  and  in  the  canon  had  made  them  want  to 
try  the  school  for  their  daughters,  but  they  had  to 
come  away  in  the  night,  because  some  of  the  Nava- 
jos  were  angry.  One  of  these  girls  is  the  most 
beautiful  creature  I  have  seen  on  this  reservation. 
Her  black  eyes  glisten  like  coals  with  fun  and  mis- 
chief, her  beauty  carries  your  heart  away,  and  her 
face  looks  so  honest  and  intelligent  that  I  am  sure 
she  will  be  a  treasure  for  our  school.  Then  she 
rides  a  pony  with  a  grace  that  makes  me  hide  my 
eyes  with  shame  over  my  exploits  with  this  awkward 

8i 


Chunda 

jumpy  nag  on  that  agency  plaza.  Oh,  papa,  I  am  so 
happy  for  you!  This  trip  is  going  to  be  a  great 
fetch,  after  all !" 

The  lovely  girl  stopped  fairly  out  of  breath  with 
her  breezy  talk,  but  rode  up  to  the  buckboard  and 
bent  down  to  kiss  her  father,  whose  words  of  greet- 
ing were  as  cheery  as  her  own. 

"Gertrude,  you  are  the  dearest  girl  in  the  world 
to  bring  me  such  good  news.  I  am  sure  the  good 
angels  have  fought  for  us  with  the  evil  spirits  of 
this  old  reservation.  God  be  praised !  It  looks  like 
success  at  last  with  these  Navajos !  What  have  you 
been  doing,  Gertrude,  while  I  have  been  gone?" 

"Why,  you  see,  papa,  I  knew  that  you  needed  the 
goodwill  of  Major  Culvert,  and  we  have  his  wife 
and  himself  our  devoted  friends  already." 

"How  did  my  little  girl  ever  do  that?" 

"Why,  we  transformed  the  agency  schoolroom 
into  a  dressmaking  establishment  and  the  laundry 
room  into  a  Turkish  bath.  And  all  the  agency 
women  employees  have  been  sewing,  and  the  hos- 
pital nurse  and  cook  have  begun  the  work  of  godli- 
ness with  these  girls  by  scrubbing  them  and  fitting 
that  boxful  of  clothes  we  brought  here  to  them. 
Papa,  they  are  the  funniest  lot  of  little  Indian  maids 
we  have  ever  had  come  to  us.  They  are  as  pretty 
as  black-eyed  Susans,  every  one,  but  they  look  like 
tiger  lilies  in  a  china  vase,  in  those  light  calico 
aprons.  But  they  are  all  eager  for  your  coming, 
and  to  get  away  to  the  railroad.  I  have  been  talk- 
ing to  them  with  the  aid  of  the  school-teacher,  who 

82 


A  Ride  to  Freedom 

interpreted  for  me.  We  brought  them  all  together 
in  the  schoolroom  when  they  were  dressed,  and 
then  the  mothers  came  in  and  stood  around  the 
sides  of  the  room  looking  with  smiles  and  tears  on 
these  girls  transformed  into  young  Americans.  I 
told  them  of  the  railroad  ride  and  the  cars  and  the 
school  in  the  far  East  to  which  they  were  going, 
and  their  little  half-scared  faces  lighted  up  and 
their  mouths  turned  and  twisted  in  astonishment. 
Then  I  told  them  a  funny  story  of  our  dog,  Roy, 
teaching  the  Pueblo  children  their  body  lesson,  and 
they  just  shouted  when  they  saw  their  mothers 
laughing.  Really,  papa,  if  you  had  not  come  tonight 
I  should  have  had  to  start  myself  with  them  tomor- 
row, so  impatient  they  are  to  go." 

And  so  the  enthusiastic  girl  ran  on  with  her 
story,  trotting  her  pony  beside  the  buckboard,  while 
Redford's  heart  was  too  deeply  moved  to  ask  a 
question,  lest  she  should  stop  the  strangely  stirring 
description  of  the  influences  which,  unconsciously  to 
him,  had  been  answering  his  prayers  in  the  hearts 
of  these  superstitious  Indians. 

It  was  now  dark  when  Redford  reached  the 
agency,  and  he  hastened  to  seek  an  interview  with 
Major  Culvert.  The  immediate  departure  of  the 
children  was  necessary,  before  there  should  be  any 
hesitation  or  reaction  from  the  influence  of  the  con- 
servative part  of  the  tribe,  who  would  soon  hear  of 
this  astonishing  movement  among  the  women  to 
give  their  girls  into  the  hands  of  the  missionary 
teacher. 

83 


Chunda 

Orders  were  given  that  evening  for  an  early  start 
the  next  morning.  Two  large  covered  wagons  were 
prepared  with  scats  and  straw  for  twenty-five  per- 
sons, and  provisions  for  two  days  were  packed  in  a 
third  wagon.  Then  the  women  were  called  together 
into  the  hospital,  where  the  agent,  accompanied  l)y 
an  interpreter  and  Redford  and  his  daughter,  met 
them. 

A  few  hearty  handshakes  passed  between  the  mis- 
sionary and  these  squaws,  and  then  he  addressed 
them  in  different  words  from  his  speech  at  Chin- 
a-li.  He  commended  their  confidence  in  the  pur- 
poses of  the  Washington  government  and  in  trusting 
himself,  who  was  seeking  only  good  things  for 
their  children.  Then  he  minutely  explained  to  them 
how  their  girls  could  be  cared  for,  what  they  would 
wear,  how  they  would  sleep,  and  learn  to  provide 
their  own  food  and  make  their  own  garments,  and 
what  they  would  study  in  books  to  make  them  wise 
enough  to  live  as  American  children  and  become 
like  American  wives  and  mothers  among  their  own 
people  in  this  country  to  which  they  should  return. 

Redford  especially  promised  his  own  care  and 
that  of  faithful  teachers  like  his  daughter,  whom 
they  had  already  begun  to  know;  so  that,  if  their 
lives  were  preserved,  in  three  years  they  should 
return  to  them.  Meanwhile,  he  would  each  year 
bring  them  pictures  of  their  children  and  describe 
their  progress  at  school. 

Major  Culvert  confirmed  the  statements  of  the 
missionary,  and  the  mothers,  whose  faces  had  grown 

84 


A  Ride  to  Freedom 

grave  and  tearful  under  this  talk,  departed  with 
lightened  hearts  to  their  neighboring  cabins. 

The  sun's  rays  were  first  shooting  across  the 
plaza  from  the  ridge  on  the  east  when  the  children, 
who  had  slept  in  care  of  the  teachers,  after  an  early 
breakfast,  were  packed  into  the  wagons  at  the 
schoolroom  door.  Hurried  partings  were  given  to 
their  parents,  and  in  the  silence  that  followed  the 
word  was  given  to  start,  while  the  people  stood 
watching  the  departure  from  every  door  of  the 
plaza. 

Not  a  sound  was  heard  from  the  wagons  as  they 
passed  behind  the  agency  buildings.  The  Indian 
mothers  leaped  upon  their  ponies  and  followed  them, 
riding  up  from  time  to  time  to  look  into  the  wagons 
and  say  a  cheery  word  in  Navajo,  and  then,  after  a 
few  miles  were  passed,  dropping  behind,  one  by  one, 
to  leave  the  wagon  road  and  follow  the  trails  to  their 
scattered  hogans  on  the  reservation. 

The  drive  to  the  railroad  station  at  Manuelito 
was  ended  by  noon,  and  the  happy  girls,  pleased 
with  the  novelty  of  their  situation  and  sustained  by 
their  numbers,  were  stowed  away  with  their  provi- 
sions in  a  Santa  Fe  railroad  tourist  car  which  was 
W'aiting  for  them  at  that  station  on  a  side  track,  so 
great  had  been  Redford's  faith  that  he  would  accom- 
plish his  mission  to  these  Navajos.  They  found  also 
five  boys  of  sixteen  to  eighteen  years  waiting  by  the 
railroad  for  permission  of  the  teacher  to  go  to  the 
Eastern  school  by  the  sea  of  which  he  had  told 
them.     Among  these  was   Hot-si,   whose  earnest, 

85 


Chunda 

determined  face  would  allow  no  refusal.  Redford 
soon  consented  to  take  them  to  San  Gabriel  and 
from  there  to  dispose  of  them  after  communication 
with  the  government;  for  this  had  been  ordered  by 
Major  Culvert  the  night  before,  after  learning  the 
intention  of  the  boys. 

As  the  miles  increased  between  the  children  and 
the  life  to  which  they  could  never  return,  a  loneli- 
ness crept  over  them  inexplicable  to  themselves. 
Gertrude's  watchful  eyes  detected,  during  that  two 
days'  journey,  the  first  signs  of  homesickness,  and 
her  lovely  face  soothed  their  rising  grief  and 
strangely  fascinated  their  tender  hearts.  It  was  all 
a  dream  to  the  girls.  A  white-faced  angel  seemed 
ever  to  move  among  them,  to  provide  their  food, 
give  them  a  gentle  caress,  or  dispel  their  tears  with 
a  bright  and  happy  song.  The  strains  of  her  guitar 
were  often  heard  amid  the  rumbling  and  rattling  of 
the  cars,  to  divert  their  thoughts  and  arouse  won- 
dering questions  of  the  life  which  they  were  to  enter 
among  strangers. 


86 


CHAPTER  XI 

RETURNED   AND   RELEASED 

It  is  early  in  May.  Three  years  ago  the  wagons 
laden  with  Navajo  children  were  driven  out  of  the 
plaza  of  Fort  Defiance.  Today  they  will  return  to 
their  parents.  The  word  of  the  missionary  will  not 
be  broken.  It  is  an  event  which  awakens  interest 
in  remote  parts  of  the  reservation.  A  great  council 
of  the  principal  men  has  been  called  by  the  agent. 
All  night  the  Navajos  have  been  coming  by  diverse 
trails  from  Chin-a-li,  from  the  Tunicha  Mountains, 
from  Ganado  Mucho's  band,  and  from  the  region  of 
the  San  Juan.  Major  Culvert  finds  it  a  favorable 
opportunity  to  interest  them  in  projects  for  the. 
improvement  of  their  condition.  It  will,  perhaps, 
lead  them  to  favor  home  education  when  the  effects 
of  school  life  abroad  on  the  daughters  of  their  tribe 
shall  be  manifested  in  the  returned  pupils.  i 

Their  departure  has  given  rise  to  many  discus- 
sions in  the  smoky  hogans  as  in  the  light  of  pifion 
knots  they  have  passed  the  long  winter  evenings,  or 
as  they  have  gathered  for  their  spring  and  autumn 
dances  and  to  the  annual  harvesting  of  the  peach 
orchards. 

The  Shamans  have  always  been  active  in  these 
talks.  They  have,  by  their  personal  influence, 
formed  a  strong  conservative  party  to  oppose  the 

87 


ClIUNDA 

further  education  of  their  people;  for  their  tribal 
customs,  their  religion,  the  honor  of  their  ancestors, 
the  preservation  of  their  nation  from  the  inroads  of 
the  white  men,  are  all  concerned  with  this  movement 
to  educate  their  youth.  So  they  have  aroused  the 
dominant  prejudices  of  the  older  men  and  of  the 
youth,  who  see  their  own  importance  diminished  and 
their  prospective  marriages  delayed  and  hindered, 
if  not  made  impossible,  by  the  education  of  the 
girls. 

But  the  women  are  now  at  the  head  of  the  radical 
party.  They  are  property  holders  and  decide  as  to 
the  disposal  of  their  daughters.  They  would  like 
to  change  Navajo  vagrancy  to  a  home  life  that  will 
foster  domestic  comforts  and  virtues  well-nigh  im- 
possible in  their  present  mode  of  living.  Men  who 
have  faith  in  the  wisdom  of  their  wives  or  mothers 
are  now  disposed  to  uphold  them.  They  are  out- 
spoken for  a  trial  of  something  new.  A  spirit  of 
discontent  is  spreading  through  the  reservation. 
The  nearer  approach  of  cattle  ranches  and  mining 
settlements  excites  alarm. 

The  men  have  noticed  the  change  of  rifles  and 
cannon  at  Fort  Wingate  to  a  new  and  deadly  pat- 
tern. The  United  States  soldiers  will  be  still  more 
to  be  feared  in  a  conflict.  The  utensils,  tools  and 
equipments  brought  to  the  agency  for  the  annual 
distribution  are  more  skillfully  made.  They  feel 
the  rapid  improvement  going  on  in  the  communi- 
ties of  wdiite  men,  and  they  are  shrewd  enough  to 
know  that  education  of  the  hand  as  well  as  of  the 

88 


Returned  and  Released 

head  is  its  cause,  for  they  know  that  the  white  man's 
better  skilled  workmen  in  silver  and  iron,  in  weav- 
ing and  sewing,  are  quick-witted  and  long-trained. 

So  the  questions  of  hogans  or  houses,  wagons  or 
saddles,  bows  and  shotguns  or  Winchester  rifles, 
cattle  or  sheep,  wool  clips  or  cotton  balls,  books  or 
amulets,  schools  or  dances,  have  been  in  frequent 
debate  for  several  years,  and  they  have  been  dis- 
cussed with  unusual  animation  in  the  council  today, 
which  occupied  the  forenoon. 

The  agency  plaza  is  now  a  lively  scene.  Two 
hundred  men  and  women  are  sitting  on  their  rest- 
less horses  or  strolling  about  buildings.  They  seem 
to  have  taken  unusual  care  with  their  gaudy  clothing 
and  trappings.  Their  cheeks  and  brows  are  covered 
with  paints,  and  they  wear  their  best  blankets  and 
buckskins.  Few  are  armed,  for  the  council  and 
the  visit  to  the  agency  is  for  peaceful  measures,  and 
to  greet  the  daughters  of  their  tribe. 

The  sun  was  past  the  meridian  when  the  wagons, 
accompanied  by  thirty  or  forty  Navajo  horsemen, 
drove  into  the  plaza.  Redford,  on  a  strong  gray 
horse,  rode  by  the  side  of  the  first  wagon,  and  with 
him  on  a  black  pony  was  a  young  woman  of  twenty 
years.  Her  appearance  at  once  attracted  the  Nava- 
jos.  Tall,  graceful  in  her  bearing  as  she  sat  upon 
her  horse,  her  dark  eyes  surveyed  with  quiet  dignity 
the  strange  scene.  Her  cheeks  burned  by  the  sun 
to  a  bright  color  set  off  her  rich  brown  skin,  while 
dark  auburn  hair  hung  in  long  braids  at  her  back. 
Unconscious  of  the  evident  surprise  and  admiration 

89 


Chunda 

of  the  Navajos  as  they  entered  the  gateway  of  the 
plaza,  the  lovely  girl  turned  to  Redford  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"Three  years  ago  Gertrude  took  into  her  charge 
these  children  whom  we  are  now  returning  to  their 
parents.  How  strange  that  I  should  come  back 
with  you  to  show  these  people  the  results  of  her 
faithful  work  and  never-ceasing  care!" 

"Yes,  Margaret,  while  you,  my  child,  reap  today, 
in  the  admiration  of  these  people,  what  she  has  so 
diligently  sown,  you  well  may  believe  that  she  has 
wrought  in  their  characters  a  greater  work  of  art 
than  ever  painter's  brush  or  sculptor's  chisel  could 
produce.     But  we  have  enough  to  do  now." 

He  stopped  his  horse  and  dismounted,  handing 
the  bridle  rein  to  a  Navajo  boy  who  stood  near,  as 
he  went  forward  to  greet  Major  Culvert.  Then, 
turning  to  the  Navajos  riding  toward  him,  he 
greeted  them : 

"Buenos  dias,  amigos!  Buenos  dias,  sefioras!" 
in  clear,  hearty  tones. 

"Buenos!"  "Buenos!"  "Buenos  dias,  senor!" 
'"Bueno  Hombre!"  "How!"  "How!"  "Esta 
Bueno!"  "Amigo!"  "Amigo!"  cried  a  hundred 
voices,  while  the  women  smiled  their  welcome  and 
turned  their  eyes  again  to  the  wagons. 

"Your  girls  are  all  here,  my  friends,"  said  Red- 
ford  in  Spanish;  "all  but  two  whom  I  told  you  last 
year  had  gone  to  the  good  Father  above.  Come, 
children,"  he  continued  in  English,  and  at  a  wave 
of  his  hand,  for  which  they  had  impatiently  waited, 

90 


Returned  and  Released 

fifteen  bright,   hearty  girls,   in  comely  navy  blue 
suits  and  white  sailor  hats,  leaped  to  the  ground. 

For  a  moment  the  Navajo  women  looked  with 
astonishment,  not  daring  to  break  the  spell  of  the 
wistful  glances  returned  to  them. 

Then  a  mother  darted  forward  and  seized  a  tall 
girl  of  fifteen  by  the  hand. 

"She-nal-le !"  she  cried,  looking  eagerly  into  her 
face,  and  then,  quietly  putting  her  arm  around  her 
waist,  led  her  away. 

So  one  and  another  came  forward,  calling  the 
girls  by  their  Navajo  names,  and  taking  them  to 
their  embraces  with  silent  tears  or  with  their  dark 
eyes  flashing  with  pride  and  joy. 

But  the  dread  of  this  meeting  had  entered  many 
of  those  young  hearts  before  they  began  their  jour- 
ney. In  some  of  them  fear  had  dispelled  the  once- 
expected  joy  of  recognition,  fear  lest  their  mothers 
should  seem  strange  and  hateful  to  them. 

But  one  thought  in  all  their  school  life  had  been 
faithfully  impressed  upon  them.  They  were  to  go 
back  as  helpers  as  well  as  reformers,  and  in  loving 
sympathy  with  their  mothers  show  them  the  ways 
of  a  Christian  household,  and  persuade  their 
brothers  and  husbands,  when  they  should  marry,  to 
learn  the  arts  of  the  Americans. 

"What  shall  we  do,"  they  had  often  asked,  "when 
we  go  back  to  living  in  a  hogan  ?  If  we  can  do  noth- 
ing more,  at  least  w-e  will  have  it  clean." 

"We  will  make  as  good  bread  as  we  do  here." 

"We  will  cook  the  meat  as  in  this  kitchen." 
91 


Chunda 

"We  will  dress  our  children  as  we  now  dress  our 
dolls." 

"We  will  make  the  blankets  clean,  if  we  have  to 
wear  them." 

"We  will  have  our  faces  and  our  bodies  clean,  if 
we  do  live  in  a  hogan." 

"We  will  teach  our  children,  if  we  cannot  show 
our  mothers,  how  to  live  as  we  do  now." 

Such  had  been  the  expressions  in  many  a  girlish 
talk  at  school,  and  on  the  long  journey  back  to  the 
reservation. 

Will  the  little  leaven  cast  into  this  lump  of  savage 
custom  and  inherited  tendencies  ever  leaven  the 
whole  mass  ?  What  has  been  accomplished  in  a  few 
is  possible  for  the  whole  tribe. 

One  of  the  scholars  looked  in  vain  for  the  loved 
face  of  her  mother.  We  already  know  her  better 
than  the  others — Chunda,  the  daughter  of  Hedipa, 
who  three  years  ago  had  been  the  cheeriest  and  hap- 
piest of  all  the  little  company  that  left  the  agency. 
She  had  been  the  same  sweet  and  enlivening  char- 
acter in  the  school,  and  dearer  than  all  others  to  the 
teachers,  who  had  watched  with  pride  her  rapid 
progress  in  every  study. 

Now,  of  all  her  mates,  she  is  the  most  disap- 
pointed. Recognizing  a  woman  from  Chin-a-li,  she 
asked  for  Hedipa. 

"She  waits  for  you  in  the  Canon  de  Chelly.  She 
was  too  ill  to  ride  to  meet  3^ou." 

Chunda  hastened  to  her  teacher  and  told  him  of 
her  grief. 

93 


Returned  and  Released 

"We  will  start  tomorrow  with  you  for  the  cafion," 
said  Redford.  "I  have  heard  that  your  mother  is 
very  ill,  but  we  will  hope  to  greet  her  once  more." 

By  daylight,  next  morning,  a  wagon  stood  at  the 
door  of  the  agency  office,  well  packed  with  provi- 
sions and  provender  for  the  horses.  Another  with 
two  seats  was  waiting  at  the  schoolroom  door  for 
the  agent  and  Chunda  and  the  matron  of  Fort  Defi- 
ance School,  with  Nesito,  a  Navajo  schoolboy,  for 
interpreter.  Two  riding  horses  were  led  by  a  herder 
on  his  own  pony.  Redford  and  Margaret,  already 
mounted,  greatly  refreshed  by  the  night's  sleep  in 
the  rarefied  air  that  encircled  Fort  Defiance,  held  the 
bridles  of  their  restless  horses,  giving  the  last 
directions. 

The  party  started  as  the  sun  was  climbing  above 
the  eastern  ridge.  The  first  day's  ride  of  forty  miles 
to  Ganado  Mucho  ranch,  through  a  grassy  park  of 
pines  and  scrub  oaks,  was  one  of  rare  beauty.  They 
camped  at  noon  for  dinner  amid  flowers  strange 
in  shape  and  color ;  and  the  shadows  of  clouds  above 
the  tall  pines,  as  they  rode  through  the  sunlit  parks, 
seemed  to  promise  the  protection  of  the  loving 
Father  whose  children  they  were  seeking  in  this 
wilderness. 

A  night  at  Pueblo  Colorado,  where  the  hospi- 
tality of  an  American  trader  was  freely  extended, 
prepared  them  for  another  long  and  hot  day's  ride 
over  an  open  plain.  When  they  camped  at  night 
they  were  still  twenty  miles  from  Chin-a-li,  and  it 
was  two  o'clock  of  the  third  day  of  their  journey 

93 


Chunda 

when  they  rested  for  dinner  in  the  shadow  of  the 
rocks  beneath  which  Redford  had  received,  three 
years  before,  the  visit  of  the  ancient  Navajo.  There 
the  wagons  were  left,  and  the  party,  now  all 
mounted,  pressed  on  up  the  Canon  de  Chelly. 

Near  a  hogan  at  the  edge  of  the  peach  orchards 
they  halted  at  sundown.  Chunda  hastened  to  dis- 
mount and  ran  eagerly  toward  the  humble  cabin. 
She  entered  it,  and  in  the  dim  light  saw  a  hand 
stretched  forth  from  a  pile  of  blankets.  A  low, 
hesitating  voice  greeted  her  in  Navajo,  and  the 
mother's  speech  needed  no  interpreter  for  the 
daughter. 

"Chunda,  She-nal-le!  You  have  come  to  me  at 
last,  as  the  teacher  promised.  Do  you  still  love 
your  Navajo  mother  as  when  she  sent  you  so  far 
away?" 

"She-ma,"  softly  answered  Chunda,  "you  little 
know  my  joy  to  embrace  you  once  more,  mother 
dear.  Yes,  I  am  still  your  own  She-nal-le.  But, 
mother,  you  have  changed.  Your  hand  is  hot ;  your 
voice  is  weak;  your  face  is  thin  and  pale.  Oh, 
mother,  are  you  so  sick?  Have  you  needed  me  so 
long  when  I  have  so  hastened  to  return  to  you, 
counting  the  days  and  hours  of  this  long,  long 
journey  ?" 

Hedipa  pressed  her  child  to  her  bosom. 

"She-nal-le,  my  hours  are  few  to  stay  with  you. 
Have  you  been  happy  in  the  school  ?" 

"Mother,"  replied  Chunda,  "I  have  learned  every 
day  what  I  thought  would  make  you  glad  to  know 

94 


Returned  and  Released 

and  see,  and  I  have  longed  to  tell  it  to  you.  How 
many  things  I  have  treasured  for  you!  and  when 
you  are  stronger  I  will  spend  days  in  telling  you 
all." 

"Chunda,  I  shall  never  hear  them  from  your  lips. 
This  pain  I  feel  is  fast  taking  me  away." 

"No !  No !  Mother  dear,  hear  me.  I  cannot  give 
you  up,  even  to  our  heavenly  Father,  now  that  I 
have  come  back.  Have  you  the  faith  you  told  me  to 
learn?    Have  you  learned  to  love  our  Saviour?" 

Hedipa  waited  for  strength  to  speak.  At  length 
she  began  with  difficulty. 

"Never  have  I  forgotten  the  w^ords  the  teacher 
sang.    Chos  told  them  me,  in  Navajo : 

'Raise  the  fallen,  cheer  the   faint, 
Heal  the  sick  and  lead  the  blind.' 

As  I  have  waited  these  many  months,  for  you  to 
come  back,  not  knowing  whether  you  were  sick  or 
well,  and  my  heart  has  been  so  empty,  so  hungry, 
so  faint,  I  have  heard  the  other  words  coming  to 
me: 

'Thou,  O  Christ,  art  all  I  want; 
More  than  all  in  thee  I  find.'  " 

Hedipa's  lips  trembled;  she  could  not  go  on. 

"Mother,"  said  Chunda,  "you  have,  then,  found 
him  near  you  to  comfort  you  ?" 

"Yes,  child,  more  than  I  can  say !" 

"Then,  mother,  when  you  are  gone  I  wish  to  go 
back  and  learn  more  for  my  people.  I  want  to  heal 
the  sick."  Chunda  spoke  with  the  deep  tone  of  one 
whose  whole  being  had   found   expression  in  the 

95 


Chunda 

words.  "She-ma,  tell  me,  if  I  may  go  to  learn  how 
to  comfort  and  help  our  people  here?" 

"Would  you  be  like  the  doctor  at  the  agency?" 
she  asked,  with  surprise. 

"Yes,  mother,  but  I  will  not  leave  you,  not  so 
long  as  you  will  stay.  I  am  come  to  comfort  you 
now — to  nurse  you,  and  pet  you  as  you  used  to 
fondle  me ;  to  show  you  that  I  love  and  honor  you, 
She-ma,  for  the  love  you  had  for  me  when  you  sent 
me  away  to  learn  the  better  things." 

Hedipa  drew  her  child's  face  to  hers.  Then  she 
closed  her  eyes  and  rested. 

As  Redford  and  Margaret  were  waiting  outside 
of  the  hogan  with  a  young  Navajo  woman  who  had 
been  watching  with  Hedipa,  Margaret  noticed 
standing  beside  Hedipa's  couch  a  rude  frame  made 
of  young  oak  trees.  It  was  a  rough  loom,  and  in  it, 
nearly  completed,  was  a  finely  woven  blanket.  It 
was  nearly  all  white,  with  faint  lines  of  purple  run- 
ning at  wide  intervals  through  the  texture.  It  was 
Hedipa's  last  work,  and  the  looser  threads  showed 
where  her  fingers  had  failed  to  put  them  firmly  in 
place  after  the  fever  had  begun  to  waste  her 
strength. 

Redford  entered  the  hut  just  as  Hedipa  turned 
away  her  face.  He  beckoned  Chunda  to  come  to 
him. 

"Is  your  mother  sleeping?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Redford,  but  her  hands  are  growing 
cold.  Can  she  be  dying?" 

The  missionary  stepped  softly  forward  toward 
96 


Returned  and  Released 

the  couch.  Hedipa  had  partly  turned  her  head  in 
the  effort  to  breathe  more  easily,  but  her  lips  were 
motionless.  Redford  took  Chunda's  hand  and  in 
the  dusky  light  led  her  to  Margaret. 

"My  daughter,  you  must  care  for  this  motherless 
girl  as  for  your  own  sister.  Take  her  now  to  yon- 
der hogan  with  this  young  Navajo  woman,  and 
ask  the  older  women  to  come  here.  But  they  are 
afraid  of  death.  You  and  the  matron  must  prepare 
Hedipa  for  the  grave.  Tomorrow  she  shall  have  a 
Christian  burial." 

An  hour  later  Hedipa  was  lying  peacefully  on  her 
couch  in  the  dark  hogan,  shrouded  in  the  white 
blanket  which  Margaret  had  cut  from  the  loom  and 
tenderly  wrapped  around  her. 


97 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN    THE    HOUSE   OF    HEDIPA 

Near  the  rincon  of  the  peach  orchards,  but  in 
the  center  of  the  Cafion  de  Chelly,  rises  a  lofty 
cathedral-shaped  cliff.  Its  pinnacle,  standing  two 
hundred  feet  in  the  air,  is  flanked  with  lower  peaks 
that  form  the  buttresses  of  a  hollow  arched  space 
beneath,  where  once  the  waters  made  a  pool  far 
under  the  rock  and  gradually  widened  its  bound- 
aries into  a  roomy  cave,  the  floor  of  which  is  the 
smooth  ledge,  and  its  corrugated  walls  and  ceiling 
rise,  in  some  places,  to  a  height  of  thirty  feet. 

The  red  and  pale  yellow  strata  of  the  cliff  give  a 
mellow  tone  to  the  facade  of  this  chapel  thus  carved 
by  nature's  hand.  Under  its  projecting  roof  is 
found  shelter  from  the  hot  vertical  rays  which 
descend  at  midday  from  a  cloudless  sky  and  from 
the  rains  that  often  pour  furiously  down  into  this 
chasm. 

Redford,  after  Hedipa's  death,  had,  in  his  sad- 
ness, sought  this  hollowed  cliff  and  prepared  it  for 
a  mortuary  chapel  for  the  first  Christian  convert  in 
this  canon  over  whom  could  be  said  the  impressive 
burial  service  of  the  church. 

Far  within  this  chamber  of  stone,  on  the  farthest 
wall,  is  a  low  projection  of  the  ledge  whose  grayish 
sides  and  top  and  the  wall  behind,  of  a  dark  pur- 

98 


In  the  House  of  Hedipa 

plish  color,  made  a  sanctuary  and  an  altar  with 
vestments  of  mourning.  The  narrow  chancel  in 
front  of  it  was  paved  with  mosaics  of  mottled  gray 
and  red,  finely  wrought  without  hammer  or  chisel 
or  human  skill.  The  light  streamed  in  from  the 
west  upon  a  broad  aisle  between  blocks  of  red  sand- 
stone and  stratified  white  clay. 

At  the  end  of  the  cliff  projecting  down  the  canon 
is  an  island  of  sand  covered  with  low  scattered 
trees  of  scrub  oak  and  cottonwood.  Beneath  one 
of  these,  in  white  sand  and  gravel,  could  be  seen 
a  grave  made  by  Major  Culvert's  order;  and  over 
the  heaped-up  earth  were  strewn  the  leafy  branches 
of  oak,  with  which  the  sides  and  bottom  of  the  grave 
were  also  lined  in  dark  green. 

From  the  hogan  across  the  canon  the  notes  of  a 
Christian  song  are  heard,  and  soon  a  little  group 
begins  to  move  toward  the  chapel.  Major  Culvert, 
the  two  agency  employees  who  were  drivers  of  the 
wagons,  and  Nesito,  the  young  Navajo  interpreter, 
are  the  bearers,  carrying  a  bier  made  of  the  trunks 
of  two  small  oak  trees  interwoven  with  branches 
from  the  peach  orchard.  On  this  bier  lies  Hedipa 
wrapped  in  her  white  woolen  shroud,  with  a  cross 
of  oak  leaves  resting  on  her  bosom  and  a  wreath  of 
pinon  twigs  and  red  cactus  flowers  at  her  feet. 

The  group  soon  forms  into  a  procession  with  Red- 
ford  leading,  while  Margaret  walks  with  Chunda 
beside  her  next  to  the  bier.  The  matron  and 
Hedipa's  faithful  nurse  and  friend,  Tswane,  are  just 
behind  them.    A  company  of  Navajo  squaws  follow 

99 


CnUNDA 

irregularly,  having  waited  at  a  distance  from  the 
hogan  until  the  procession  began  to  move.  These, 
as  they  approach  the  chapel,  seat  themselves  on  the 
side  of  the  canon  with  twenty  or  thirty  men  and 
children  who  are  watching  the  strange  scene. 

As  the  bearers  came  within  the  shadow  of  the 
cathedral  rock,  Redford,  in  clear,  strong  tones,  be- 
gan the  service  of  the  church.  The  walls  of  the 
canon  caught  up  the  words,  'T  am  the  resurrection 
and  the  life;"  and  as  the  last  sentence  was  uttered 
within  the  chapel,  "The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord 
hath  taken  away,"  there  came,  as  an  echo  from  a 
recess  high  up  in  the  ceiling,  "Blessed  be  the  name 
of  the  Lord !" 

Then  the  minor  tones  of  the  chant  were  sung  by 
Margaret  and  the  matron,  with  the  deeper  bass 
voice  of  Major  Culvert,  and  the  Navajo  onlookers 
drew  near  and  crowded  around  the  chapel  entrance. 
It  seemed  to  them  one  of  their  own  dirges,  but  when 
the  lesson  with  its  revelation  of  Christian  hope  was 
read  their  attention  relaxed,  and  only  revived  when 
the  plaintive  notes  of  a  hymn  filled  the  little  chapel 
and  floated  out  into  the  canon. 

A  prayer  was  said,  the  bearers  took  up  their  bur- 
den, and  the  procession  wended  its  way  in  the  same 
order  as  before  to  the  grave.  Around  this  the  ex- 
cited Navajos  were  gathered.  It  seemed  doubtful 
if  they  would  permit  the  body  to  be  lowered  to  its 
resting  place  undisturbed.  But  the  presence  of 
Major  Culvert  prevented  any  act  of  violence,  and 
their  murmurings  were  soothed  by  the  words  of 

lOO 


In  the  House  of  Hedipa 

the  committal,  though  they  knew  not  its  glorious 
meaning. 

As  the  benediction  was  pronounced  they  pressed 
toward  the  grave  to  look  down  upon  the  body 
wrapped  in  its  white  mantle  lying  peacefully  upon 
its  bed  of  leaves.  Some  of  the  women  turned  away 
with  tears,  while  the  men  waited  to  see  the  mound 
of  earth  rise  over  the  last  resting  place  of  the  woman 
whose  kindly  disposition  had  left  an  impression  even 
on  their  rough  natures. 

Ever  afterward  the  Navajos  called  the  cathedral 
rock  "The  House  of  Hedipa." 

With  hearts  moved  by  their  strange  surroundings, 
those  who  had  rendered  this  Christian  service  re- 
turned to  the  hogan  where  Hedipa  had  died.  But 
they  found  it  in  ruins.  Beside  it  were  a  few  blankets 
which  had  been  woven  by  Hedipa  and  carried  out 
of  the  hogan  by  her  friends  before  the  last  days  of 
her  sickness,  to  escape  the  contamination  of  death. 
All  else  had  been  destroyed  with  her  habitation, 
and  these  were  Chunda's  only  inheritance.  She 
stood  for  a  few  minutes  looking  sadly  at  the  ruins, 
then  gathered  the  blankets  in  two  rolls  which  she 
gave  to  Nesito  to  fasten  to  her  horse's  saddle. 

As  Chunda  turned  away  she  saw  the  inmates  of 
the  hogan  above  her,  in  the  peach  orchards,  looking 
down  upon  her.  She  walked  up  to  them  slowly  but 
with  firm  tread,  put  out  her  hand  to  each,  and 
softly  thanked  them  for  their  care  of  her  mother. 
Then,  bidding  them  farewell,  she  returned  to  the 
company  below,  and  coming  up  to  Redford  asked : 


CllUNDA 

"My  teacher  and  friend,  will  you  take  me  back 
with  you  to  school  ?" 

"Never  to  return?"  said  Redford,  in  surprise. 

"I  will  not  return,"  said  Chunda,  "until  I  know 
how  to  heal  these  my  people  with  the  skill  of  a 
white  man.  Then  will  I  build  here,  by  this  orchard, 
a  house  for  them  where  the  sick  shall  find  shelter 
and  care  and  comfort.  It  shall  be  a  memorial  to 
my  mother." 


102 


CHAPTER  XIII 
A    woman's    rage 

The  evening  was  near  when  the  start  was  made 
down  the  canon  to  their  camp.  Chunda's  departure 
left  the  Navajos  in  doubt  as  to  what  they  should  do. 
They  were  grieved  at  her  decision  to  return  to  the 
East,  and  without  understanding  her  purpose  many 
were  angry. 

In  the  midst  of  their  discussion  Hut-tah  arrived, 
riding  furiously  down  from  the  north  of  the  Canon 
de  Muerto,  a  long  branch  of  the  main  Canon  de 
Chelly.  Her  hogan  was  at  this  time  fifty  miles 
away,  and  she  had  been  informed  too  late  of  the 
death  of  her  kinswoman  to  be  present  at  her  burial. 

The  events  of  the  afternoon  were  hastily  described 
to  her,  and  her  displeasure  was  manifested  by  many 
violent  exclamations. 

But  when  Hut-tah  asked  for  Chunda  and  learned 
of  her  return  with  the  missionary  she  stamped  her 
foot  with  rage.  Her  passion  at  first  awed  those 
around  her.  Then  half  a  dozen  men  joined  with 
Hut-tah  in  angry  complaints  of  Chunda's  faithless- 
ness. Two  or  three  squaws  were  brought  into  the 
exciting  colloquy,  and  threats  of  capturing  the  white 
maiden  and  rescuing  Chunda  from  the  hands  of  the 
white  people  were  freely  made. 

But  they  were  hindered  by  the  fact  that  Chunda 
103 


ClIUNDA 

was  in  the  care  of  Major  Culvert,  whose  authority, 
as  agent,  was  absolute,  and  they  did  not  dare  to  defy 
it  openly  by  using-  violence  in  getting  possession  of 
the  girl  while  he  should  be  a  witness.  The  results 
of  the  recent  council  of  the  principal  men  of  the 
tribe,  they  well  knew,  were  favorable  to  the  agent, 
to  the  missionary  and  to  the  efforts  of  the  govern- 
ment at  Washington  to  change  and  improve  their 
condition  by  the  gifts  of  tools  and  promised  aid,  if 
they  would  build  reservoirs  and  cabins. 

What  should  they  do  while  yet  the  girl  was  within 
their  reach?  A  few  determined  Navajos  who  had 
separated  from  the  rest  decided  to  follow  Hut-tah's 
counsel,  to  ride  suddenly  upon  the  party  ere  they 
reached  camp  that  night,  snatch  Chunda  away,  and 
hide  her  in  the  almost  inaccessible  canon  in  the 
Tunicha  Mountains  where  they  held  the  secret  coun- 
cils of  the  tribe.  If  their  attack  was  resisted,  they 
were  to  capture  also  the  missionary's  daughter  as  a 
hostage. 

Their  rage  was  now  turned  to  savage  glee.  Hur- 
rying to  a  dark  rincon,  they  began  a  war  dance  and 
covered  their  faces  with  black  paint. 

As  they  withdrew  to  the  rincon  Nesito,  left  be- 
hind as  a  spy  by  the  agent,  began  to  climb  the 
walls  of  the  canon  to  pluck  the  red  cactus  flowers 
growing  in  the  clefts.  Slowly  making  his  way  along 
a  ridge  toward  a  projecting  cliff  where  the  canon 
turned,  he  picked  up  part  of  an  ancient  loom  which 
had  been  washed  out  of  a  crumbling  wall  that 
inclosed  the  remains  of  the  cliff  dwellers  in  a  cave 

104 


A  Woman's  Rage 

far  above  him.  Seated  on  a  rock,  he  busied  himself 
in  rejoining  the  broken  pieces  till  the  shadows  had 
grown  deeper. 

He  could  hardly  see  the  opposite  walls  when  he 
dropped  from  ledge  to  ledge  to  the  bed  of  the  stream 
and  ran  noiselessly  down  the  cafion  to  where  his 
pony  was  tethered  and  feeding  in  a  patch  of 
meadow. 

It  took  but  a  few  moments  to  adjust  his  bridle 
and  tighten  the  girth  around  the  saddle  blanket. 
Then  mounting  quickly  he  at  first  rode  slowly  near 
the  stream,  where  the  sound  of  his  horse's  hoofs 
would  be  smothered  in  the  sand.  But  half  a  mile 
away  he  lashed  his  pony  to  his  swiftest  gallop. 

Major  Culvert  was  riding  in  the  rear  of  his  party 
at  a  walking  pace,  for  it  was  now  very  dark.  They 
had  come  to  a  broad  place  in  the  cafion,  in  the 
midst  of  which  two  or  three  large  cottonwoods  were 
growing  out  of  the  sandy  bottom.  There  they 
halted  at  the  sound  of  a  swift  rider  behind  them. 

Nesito  beckoned  to  the  agent  as  he  stopped  his 
pony,  and  in  a  few  words  unfolded  to  him  the  plot 
to  capture  Chunda  that  night.  The  agent,  thor- 
oughly angered  at  the  daring  scheme,  prepared  to 
resist  the  attack  of  the  Navajos,  aided  only  by  a 
single  Indian  police  soldier  whom  he  had  with  him, 
and  who,  like  himself,  was  well  armed.  But  the 
next  moment  a  better  plan  was  presented  to  his 
mind.  He  dispatched  one  of  the  drivers,  who  was 
mounted,  to  Chin-a-li,  and  calling  Redford  to  his 
side  told  him  of  the  contemplated  attack. 

105 


ClIUNDA 

Margaret  and  Chunda  received  the  startling  in- 
formation in  silence,  but  while  the  men  were  plan- 
ning for  the  emergency  these  girls  were  busily 
talking  in  low,  earnest  tones  to  Nesito. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "it  is  possible.  I  know  the  way. 
If  you  can  keep  your  heads  steady  you  can  climb 
to  the  cave  and  be  safe  till  Major  Culvert  returns 
with  help." 

"Father,"  said  Margaret,  riding  up  to  him,  "we 
will  hide  in  one  of  the  caves  of  the  cliff  which  Nesito 
says  is  just  below  us,  but  high  up  in  the  sides  of  the 
caiion.  He  climbed  to  it  yesterday  and  will  guide 
us.  Chunda  and  I  will  thus  be  safe  in  the  darkness, 
while  you  all  hurry  on  and  delay  the  Navajos  till 
we  can  be  rescued." 

Redford  remonstrated  at  leaving  them  alone  and 
unprotected. 

"But  it  must  be  so,  papa,"  said  Margaret.  "You 
cannot  possibly  climb  the  steep  rock.  I  saw  Nesito 
do  it  yesterday,  and  if  you  are  left  here  you  will 
surely  expose  our  hiding  place  to  the  Navajos." 

"But  who  will  protect  you  should  you  be  dis- 
covered ?" 

"We  shall  be  safe,"  the  brave  girl  replied.  "You 
will  need  all  your  authority,  with  Major  Culvert's, 
to  hold  the  Navajos  in  check.  But  there  is  no  time 
to  lose.  Major  Culvert,  is  there  anything  better  that 
we  can  do?" 

"I  don't  know  a  wiser  course  than  this,  if  you  and 
Chunda  have  courage  to  remain  and  climb  the  cliff; 
you  must  act  quickly.     Dismount  and  give  us  the 

io6 


A  Woman's  Rage 

bridles,"  he  said  kindly  but  firmly.  "We  must  take 
these  horses  on  with  us  as  a  blind  to  the  cursed 
Navajos,  for  they  will  count  every  hoof  print  in 
the  sand  when  they  come  near  us.  They  will  not 
heed  your  tracks  if  you  walk  in  the  stream  there. 
You  are  already  stepping  into  it  as  you  dismount. 
Don't  mind  the  water,  girls,  follow  Nesito  to  the 
other  side.  There  is  the  cave  just  opposite  to  us. 
We  will  wait  till  we  hear  your  signal  that  you  have 
reached  the  cave  dwelling  safely,  and  then  ride  on. 
It  will  not  be  more  than  an  hour  before  we  will 
return.  Now,  girls,"  he  said  cheerily,  "keep  good 
hearts  till  help  arrives." 

Thus,  as  he  was  helping  the  girls  to  dismount  and 
as  they  were  crossing  the  stream.  Major  Culvert 
mingled  commands  with  encouragements  to  the 
maidens  in  their  flight.  Nesito  was  leading  them, 
bearing  a  roll  of  blankets  which  he  had  detached 
from  Chunda's  saddle.  He  carefully  trod  in  the 
sandy  bottom  of  the  stream,  whose  chilly  water  was 
not  deep  but  might  cover  quicksands. 

The  girls  reached  the  other  side  where  the  cliff 
rose  at  its  very  edge,  and  slowly  picked  their  way 
along  the  shelving  ridge,  which  made  a  gradual 
incline  to  the  first  level. 

Then  the  way  became  more  difficult  in  the  dark- 
ness. They  clung  with  their  hands  to  the  rocks 
jutting  above  them.  As  they  crept  around  the  pro- 
jection of  a  ledge  they  might  have  looked  down 
seventy  feet  into  the  water,  but  they  could  not,  in 
the  dark,  measure  the  height  above  them.     Then 

107 


Chunda 

they  came  to  an  incline  where  the  rock  was  smooth 
and  wide  up  the  face  of  the  cHff,  and  following 
Nesito  almost  on  a  run  for  a  hundred  feet,  bending 
forward  toward  the  cliff,  they  stood  at  last  on  the 
ledge  of  the  cliff  dwellings  under  a  great  overhang- 
ing roof  of  stone. 

They  were  behind  a  sharp  elevation  of  the  ledge 
and  could  not  be  seen  from  below,  but  the  walls 
of  the  cliff  dwellings  could  be  distinguished  dimly 
rising  fifty  feet  from  them,  if  further  protection 
were  needed. 

The  distant  cry  of  a  coyote  startled  the  girls  as 
they  sat  panting  on  the  rock.  It  was  the  signal  of 
Nesito  to  Major  Culvert  that  they  were  safely  hid- 
den near  the  entrance  of  the  cave. 

The  cry  was  answered  from  the  canon  below,  and 
immediately  the  sound  of  horses  galloping  down  the 
trail  came  up  to  them  in  their  lonely  retreat.  The 
hearts  of  the  maidens  stopped  beating  for  a  moment. 
They  were  left  alone  in  the  dreary  gorge  dark  as 
night  below  them,  with  a  narrow  stretch  of  sky 
above,  and  only  a  boy  to  defend  them  from  angry 
Navajos,  should  their  hiding  place  be  revealed. 

But  the  excitement  and  exhilaration  of  the  climb 
had  roused  their  minds  to  a  courage  native  to  the 
Navajo  maiden,  and  always  at  command  of  the  self- 
possessed  American  girl.  The  glow  of  adventure 
and  triumph  at  outwitting  their  pursuers  made  them 
forget  their  peril. 

The  sound  of  the  horses'  hoofs  had  died  away,  but 

Margaret  and  Chunda  did  not  dare  to  speak  aloud, 

1 08 


A  Woman's  Rage 

nor  scarcely  to  whisper,  lest  the  acute  ear  of  some 
Navajo  scout  on  foot  ahead  of  the  hostiles  should 
catch  the  sound,  when  even  the  rustling  of  a  leaf 
in  the  still  air  would  be  noticed. 

Fifteen  minutes  passed  in  this  suspense.  They 
only  breathed  more  quickly  as  the  light  step  of  a 
runner  was  heard  from  below.  Then  another  scout 
passed.  Half  a  dozen  horses  rapidly  followed. 
They  passed  the  Cottonwood  trees.  Suddenly  they 
stopped  to  examine  the  tracks  on  the  sandy  trail. 
A  torch  was  lighted  and  waved  for  a  few  moments 
over  them  and  quickly  extinguished.  The  Navajos 
were  evidently  satisfied  that  the  party  was  unbroken 
and  that  all  were  mounted. 

Their  keen  eyes  had  also  detected  a  hot  trail,  for 
as  they  proceeded  it  was  more  slowly  and  with 
greater  caution,  for  they  were  approaching  the  bend 
in  the  canon,  half  a  mile  below  where  it  widened 
into  a  hard  sandy  plain  an  eighth  of  a  mile  wide, 
their  chosen  place  for  the  assault. 

Major  Culvert  and  his  party  were  not  trying  to 
escape  from  the  Navajos.  It  was  better  that  they 
should  be  overtaken  and,  with  the  Navajo  maiden 
out  of  sight,  to  preserve  the  appearance  of  peace, 
or,  in  case  violence  should  be  threatened,  to  keep 
a  bold  front  until  they  should  receive  reinforce- 
ments. 

They  were  far  enough  away  from  the  girls  to 
shield  them  from  suspicion  of  their  hiding  place  by 
the  Navajos,  and  they  were  near  enough  to  ride 
back  quickly  to  their  help  when  the  escort  should 

109 


Chunda 

arrive.  Major  Culvert  had,  therefore,  ordered  the 
party  to  slacken  their  pace. 

They  had  not  long  to  wait  for  their  pursuers.  A 
mile  below  the  cave  dwelling  they  were  suddenly 
aware  of  swift  steps  behind  them.  Two  or  ihree 
horsemen  dashed  by  them  without  making  salutation 
or  outcry.  Two  other  stalwart  savages  rode  quickly 
into  the  party  and  separated  the  horses.  They 
looked  from  one  to  another  for  the  girls.  The  ma- 
tron, whose  tall  and  stout  form  could  not  be  mis- 
taken, was  the  only  one  of  the  women  visible.  They 
were  evidently  astonished,  but,  saluting  the  agent, 
they  dashed  by  to  join  those  who  had  ridden  ahead. 
Ere  long  they  returned,  not  finding  the  girls,  and 
asked  Major  Culvert  for  Chunda. 

*'Why  do  you  seek  her  tonight?"  said  Major  Cul- 
vert sternly.     "What  are  your  names?" 

"Father,"  said  the  spokesman,  the  son  of  Mari- 
ano, the  chief  of  the  eastern  portion  of  the  tribe, 
"we  will  carry  Chunda  to  her  people.  Hut-tah 
demands  that  she  shall  dwell  with  her  as  her  nearest 
kinswoman." 

"Chunda  has  told  me,"  said  Major  Culvert,  "that 
she  is  alone.  She  has  neither  father  nor  mother, 
nor  uncle  nor  brother.  She  can,  by  your  Navajo 
customs,  decide  for  herself,  and  she  has  chosen  to 
go  back  to  school.  If  you  come  to  the  agency  in 
two  days  you  may  see  her  there,  but  not  tonight." 

"Father,  you  have  hidden  Chunda  and  the  white 
maiden  away.  This  man  from  Washington  shall 
take  no  more  of  our  girls  from  the  reservation." 


A  Woman's  Rage 

"Mr.  Redford  will  take  all  that  wish  to  go  with 
him.  So  the  Great  Father  has  said  by  letter  to  me. 
Beware  how  you  resist  his  will." 

"We  will  do  as  the  Great  Father  at  Washington 
wishes,  but  he  cannot  change  our  religion,"  said 
another  Navajo,  "nor  can  he  longer  make  white 
squaws  of  our  girls,  nor  fools  proud  and  lazy,  of 
our  young  men." 

"Give  us  back  Chunda  tonight,"  said  another 
Navajo.  "We  will  carry  her  safely  to  Hut-tah. 
Our  word  for  it,  she  shall  not  be  harmed." 

"Men,  go  home  to  your  hogans  and  speak  not  in 
that  way  to  me.  Your  words  are  smooth,  but  your 
hearts  are  evil,"  replied  Major  Culvert,  with  rising 
anger.  "Go  back  to  Hut-tah  and  tell  her  to  come 
to  Fort  Defiance  in  two  days  and  talk  with  me  and 
the  Maestro,  but  detain  me  no  longer  tonight." 

The  men  had  been  speaking  in  broken  Spanish 
and  English,  and  Major  Culvert  had  replied  to  them 
in  Spanish. 

The  Navajos  muttered  to  one  another,  and  one 
with  louder  voice  pointed  with  a  threatening  gesture 
toward  Major  Culvert. 

The  agent  rode  up  to  him  and  said :  "I  know  you 
now,  Maitzo,  and  not  one  word  more  like  this  to 
me,  or  I  will  have  you  arrested.  Men,  go  on  with 
me  to  camp  and  talk  with  me  tomorrow." 

They  became  more  calm,  and  talked  long  to  one 
another  in  Navajo,  as  if  to  decide  upon  some  course 
of  action,  either  to  obey  the  agent  or  to  ride  back 
and  search  for  the  girls. 


Chunda 

Time  had  been  passing  rapidly,  however,  and  the 
tramp  of  a  body  of  horsemen  was  heard  coming  up 
the  cafion  on  a  gallop.  As  they  wheeled  around  the 
turn  of  the  trail  twenty  mounted  police  came  into 
view  and  dashed  up  to  the  party  standing  near 
Major  Culvert  and  surrounded  them. 

The  Navajos  were  surprised  and  crestfallen. 
Major  Culvert  ordered  them  to  dismount  and  give 
up  their  arms.  They  sullenly  submitted,  and  a 
dozen  police  were  detailed  to  guard  them.  Then 
the  rest  of  the  police,  at  Major  Culvert's  orders, 
started  at  a  rapid  gait  with  Redford  up  the  canon. 

They  could  not  go  fast  enough  to  satisfy  the 
joyful  yet  anxious  heart  of  Redford,  but  as  they 
reached  the  clump  of  cottonwoods  opposite  to  the 
cave  dwelling  the  sergeant  sounded  his  bugle.  As 
the  notes  rung  through  the  gorge  and  up  the  cliffs 
the  echoes  of  the  bugle  were  long  repeated.  At  last 
an  Indian  whoop  came  cheerily  down  the  cliff,  and 
then  a  joyful  hurrah. 

The  descent  of  the  cliff  was  perilous  in  the 
darkness,  but  was  made  in  half  the  time  the  climb 
had  required,  and  soon  the  girls  were  in  the  em- 
braces of  the  matron  and  father,  whose  words  of 
praise  for  their  courage  and  patience  were  mingled 
with  thanksgivings  for  their  escape. 


II 


113 


CHAPTER  XIV 

TRANSFORMED 

In  the  front  room  of  an  apartment  in  a  large 
building  near  Park  Avenue  and  Seventy-fifth  Street, 
in  New  York,  a  girl  is  sitting  late  at  night  with  her 
head  leaning  upon  her  hands  while  a  cumbrous 
leather-covered  book  on  the  table  before  her  lies 
open,  but  no  longer  read.  The  light  is  burning 
brightly  above  her,  but  her  eyes  and  brain  are  too 
tired  for  study  and  she  has  fallen  asleep.  Her  face 
is  in  shadow,  but  her  form,  lithe  and  graceful, 
appears  clad  in  a  gray  woolen  suit  with  lines  of  red 
and  blue,  making  indistinct  but  large  checks  in  its 
texture.  It  is  a  closely  fitting  dress  and  made  with 
evident  care  and  taste  in  the  prevailing  style. 

At  the  maiden's  throat  is  a  black  velvet  ribbon 
fastened  by  a  round  silver  pin  which  was  once  the 
rosette  of  a  Navajo  bridle.  Her  lips,  of  a  healthy 
red  color,  are  half  opened  with  a  smile  and  an 
expression  of  surprise.  She  seems  to  herself  to  be 
again  among  her  people,  a  girl  of  fifteen.  The 
bright  garments,  the  dark-painted  faces,  the  jargon 
of  guttural  speech,  and  the  animated  gestures  of 
hands  and  arms  and  bodies  in  their  discussions  are 
all  revived  to  her  senses.  She  is  in  a  confused  com- 
pany under  the  dark  rocks  of  Chin-a-li.  A  reddish 
glare  seems  to  mingle  with  the  shadows  of  the  night, 

115 


Chunda 

now  revealing,  now  concealing  the  faces  and  forms 
around  her.  The  arms  of  her  mother  seem  to  reach 
out  and  embrace  her.  The  words  of  her  young 
Navajo  lover  are  being  whispered  to  her  as  he  sits 
by  her  side  and  they  look  upon  some  strange  move- 
ment in  the  dense  crowd  of  Navajos. 

"Will  you  wait  for  me,"  he  asks,  "until  we  have 
both  learned  how  to  live  a  better  life  than  this?" 

As  he  tells  her  what  he  is  to  learn  and  become 
among  the  white  people,  her  lover  seems  to  change 
his  form  and  garb.  He  is  sitting  in  a  schoolroom 
with  many  others  around  him  like  himself.  The 
first  lessons  are  learned.  He  is  working  in  a  great 
room  where  there  are  many  wheels  and  much  clat- 
ter of  machines.  Now  he  is  tall  and  commanding 
in  figure,  and  many  come  to  ask  him  questions.  He 
is  sitting  at  a  wide  table  with  great  sheets  of  white 
paper  before  him  on  which  he  draws  figures  and 
outlines  of  buildings ;  then  soldiers  in  lines  and 
platoons  seem  to  move  at  his  command.  He  is 
addressing  people  in  brightly  lighted  halls,  and  yet 
he  seems  to  be  pointing  ever  to  the  scene  she  first 
beheld,  but  which  has  receded  into  the  background 
of  the  pictures  that  develop  as  from  shifting  clouds 
before  her  eager  gaze.  He  disappears  from  view. 
Then  she  looks  up  to  her  mother's  loving  face  and 
asks  her  a  question.  She  cannot  think  what  she  asks, 
but  it  pleases  her  mother,  who  yet  is  vanishing  while 
she  despairingly  cries  out,  "She-ma!  She-ma!" 
and  wakes. 

Her  heart  is  beating  wildly  and  her  eyes  fill  with 
ii6 


Transformed 

tears  for  its  inexpressible  longing.  But  she  is  at 
last  fully  conscious  that  she  has  been  looking  into 
a  past  that  is  locked  with  a  golden  key  that  only 
study  and  perseverance  will  restore  to  her,  and  she 
shuts  her  book  softly. 

Then  she  sadly  prepares  herself  for  the  night, 
turns  down  the  gaslight,  and  throws  herself  wearily 
on  her  narrow  bed  to  sob  herself  to  sleep. 

It  is  but  a  week  later.  Chickering  Hall  is  filled 
with  a  throng  of  thoughtful  and  refined  people  in 
evening  dress.  The  stage,  projecting  in  a  half- 
spherical  shape  into  the  audience  room,  is  bordered 
on  its  front  with  great  bouquets  of  roses  in  its 
whole  length.  The  ushers  have  seated  the  company 
that,  without  a  display  of  elegance,  adorns  every 
part  of  the  hall  with  its  beauty  and  intelligence. 

It  is  the  celebration  of  the  graduation  of  one  of 
the  classes  of  the  New  York  Medical  School  for 
Women.  The  orchestra  has  nearly  finished  the 
march  from  Gounod's  Faust,  when  the  members  of 
the  college  enter  and  march  up  the  middle  aisle  in 
Oxford  gowns  and  caps.  Relieved  of  the  ordeals 
of  the  yearly  examinations,  these  students  with 
happy  faces  greet  their  guests.  Among  them  a 
graceful  girl  of  medium  height  walks  with  those 
who  have  completed  their  first  year.  Her  brilliant 
black  eyes  are  sparkling  with  merriment  over  the 
jests  of  her  companions  as  they  entered  the 
assembly. 

Her  name  upon  the  college  register  does  not 
117 


Chunda 

bring-  back  the  maiden  whose  story  has  been  thus 
far  told,  yet  the  rich  dark  skin  and  heightened  color 
and  those  plump  cheeks  have  not  lost  the  winsome 
look  of  Hedipa's  daughter,  though  strength  has 
been  added  to  her  features  by  triumphs  over  innu- 
merable difficulties. 

The  Navajo  girl  has  found  a  ready  friend  in  the 
Bishop  of  New  Mexico,  who  has  given  her  en- 
couragement and  support  in  her  chosen  profession, 
and  asked  her  to  take  the  name  of  a  revered  saint 
united  with  that  of  his  own  mother's  family. 

When  Eulalia  Lawton's  name  was  read  with 
honors  she  was  greeted  with  generous  applause  by 
her  classmates,  who  had  made  her  their  heroine. 
Her  career  as  an  adept  in  medical  science  was 
already  predicted  by  those  whose  affection  and  con- 
fidence she  had  won  in  the  competitions  of  the  class 
room. 


zi8 


CHAPTER  XV 

INSPIRATIONS 

On  a  bright  morning  in  March  the  various  de- 
partments of  the  Industrial  School  at  Hampton, 
Virginia,  were  opened  for  the  annual  inspection  of 
its  friends  and  patrons,  a  numerous  company  that 
for  a  week  have  been  gathering  at  the  Hygeia  Hotel 
at  Fortress  Monroe  from  Northern  and  Southern 
points,  and  having  arrived  on  an  early  train  have 
scattered  over  the  extensive  grounds  so  pic- 
turesquely located  on  the  shores  of  Hampton  Road- 
stead. The  stately  buildings  erected  for  dormitories, 
recitation  rooms  and  the  scientific  and  industrial 
departments  of  this  great  institution,  with  its 
church,  chapel  and  hospital,  impress  with  new 
force  these  intelligent  and  interested  visitors  as  a 
wonderful  creation  of  human  energy  and  philan- 
thropy. 

The  engines  of  the  Saxton  Industrial  and  Me- 
chanical Building  have  set  in  swift  operation  its 
wheels  and  shafts,  which  propel  a  hundred  machines 
for  wood  and  iron  work,  saws,  planers,  carvers, 
drills  and  lathes  of  every  description. 

The  superintendent  and  foreman  of  this  depart- 
ment, Edward  Nelson,  is  explaining  to  the  guests 
of  the  institute  the  complicated  machinery  which 
men  and  youths  of  various  ages  are  tending,  and 

119 


ClIUNDA 

from  which  they  produce  samples  of  work  hke  that 
which  hes  completed  on  tables  near  them  for  per- 
sonal examination.  Here  are  negroes  from  Ala- 
bama and  Georgia,  and  Indians  from  Nebraska  and 
Minnesota,  vying  with  one  another  in  the  skill  and 
perfection  of  their  workmanship ;  for  on  this  inspec- 
tion day  at  any  moment  the  eyes  of  the  foreman  and 
his  assistants  may  be  taking  notes  of  their  proficien- 
cy in  the  use  of  the  machinery  and  of  the  mechan- 
ical accuracy  of  their  products.  Their  promotion 
and  progress  will  depend  largely  on  the  way  they 
acquit  themselves  today. 

The  foreman,  who  appears  to  be  a  young  man  of 
twenty-eight,  has  reached  his  responsible  position 
by  virtue  of  a  mechanical  talent  so  quickly  developed 
under  the  influences  of  the  school  that  he  passed  for 
a  genius  with  his  fellows,  who,  therefore,  willingly 
conceded  to  him  every  position  to  which  he  rapidly 
rose.  There  is  not  a  wheel  or  a  shaft  or  a  rivet  in 
this  great  establishment  of  which  he  does  not  know 
the  use  and  correct  position.  He  has  handled  every 
part  of  the  machinery,  and  is  ready  with  directions 
and  advice  in  every  emergency  or  difficulty  the 
workmen  may  encounter. 

His  complexion  and  hair,  and  his  features,  though 
finely  cut  and  intelligent,  indicate  his  Indian  birth, 
and  an  observer  familiar  with  the  Apache  traits 
would  place  his  origin  in  the  Southwest.  In  stature 
and  dignity  of  bearing  he  is  a  noble  representative 
of  his  nation. 

Among  the  visitors  that  morning  was  a  man  of 


Inspirations 

vigorous  form  and  alert  step  who  had  just  arrived 
from  Washington.  He  was  a  stranger  to  everyone 
on  the  grounds,  but  famiHar  with  the  appointments 
of  industrial  institutions,  many  of  which  he  had 
visited,  and  one  of  which  he  had  already  established. 
He  had  made  his  way  unannounced  to  the  Ma- 
chinery Hall  and  mingled  with  the  friends  of  Hamp- 
ton who  were  inspecting  the  building. 

He  was  soon  listening  to  the  intelligent  explana- 
tions and  numerous  answers  of  the  foreman,  and 
to  his  criticisms,  in  the  presence  of  the  visitors,  of 
the  work  of  the  pupils.  He  quickly  recognized  the 
voice  and  the  manner  of  some  former  acquaintance. 
Soon  he  was  carried  by  them  back  to  the  scenes  of 
the  Yavishe  dance  under  the  darkly  frowning  walls 
of  Chin-a-li.  But  that  was  ten  years  ago.  "Can  it 
be,"  he  asked  himself,  "that  this  quick-moving  and 
sharp-witted  man,  with  such  an  intelligent  face  and 
mien,  resembles  the  friend  who  guided  and  pro- 
tected me  through  that  night  of  superstitious  rites 
and  debauchery  of  his  people?  Is  it  the  Navajo 
hunter,  Hot-si?" 

Stepping  up  to  the  foreman  as  he  passed  near 
him,  he  put  his  hand  out  from  the  throng  around 
him,  and  with  a  somewhat  hasty  salutation  ad- 
dressed him: 

"Mr.  Nelson,  you  once  befriended  me  in  danger 
and  perplexity  among  your  own  people." 

He  looked  up  and  with  a  quick  recognition 
warmly  responded : 

"I  know  you  well,  sir,  and  most  gratefully.    But 

121 


Chunda 

for  you  and  your  words  on  that  night  at  Chin-a-li 
I  would  not  be  here.  How  often  I  have  wished  I 
might  thank  you!" 

"The  pleasure  of  seeing  and  hearing  you  today, 
with  these  scores  of  men  and  boys  under  your  skill- 
ful direction  and  tutelage,  is  an  unspeakable  reward 
for  my  efforts." 

The  foreman  called  him  aside,  and  behind  a  plan- 
iing  machine,  somewhat  removed  from  the  sight  of 
the  visitors,  he  grasped  his  hand  again,  and  looking 
him  full  in  the  face  said  with  evident  feeling: 

''You  know  not  what  it  has  cost  me  of  effort  and 
perseverance  to  stand  where  I  now  am;  but  it  has 
been  with  one  thought  and  purpose  that  I  must 
explain  to  you  alone.  My  dear  Mr.  Redford,  may 
I  see  you  tonight  when  my  duties  here  are  done, 
and  tell  you  all  that  is  in  my  heart?" 

'Tt  will  be  my  greatest  privilege,  amid  all  that 
interests  me  here,  to  listen  to  your  story,"  he 
replied. 

"Then  I  will  call  for  you  at  the  treasurer's  office 
an  hour  after  parade  tonight,"  said  the  young  fore- 
man, with  the  light  of  a  longing  fulfilled  shining  in 
his  face. 

A  newly  arrived  group  of  visitors  gathered 
around  them,  and  the  two  friends  parted. 

When  the  hour  of  dress  parade  came  Redford 
took  a  position  favorable  to  a  critical  review  of  six 
hundred  youths  who  that  day  represented  in  regi- 
mental array  the  once  despised  colored  races  of  the 
United  States. 

122 


Inspirations 

As  the  officers  marched  to  their  positions  he  rec- 
ognized again  his  young  friend,  the  Navajo,  trans- 
formed by  his  uniform  and  fine  mihtary  bearing 
into  the  commandant  of  the  institution,  which  em- 
ployed successfuhy  the  discipHne  of  mihtary  drill 
in  regulating  these  untrained  minds  and  teaching 
them  system,  accuracy  and  obedience. 

The  parade  was  creditable  to  officers  and  men, 
and  had  the  commendation  of  several  veterans  of 
the  civil  war  scattered  among  the  spectators.  Red- 
ford,  with  rising  emotion,  listened  to  the  last  strain 
of  the  band  after  the  crowd  had  dispersed.  Then, 
turning  away,  he  partook  lightly  of  the  collation 
spread  under  a  tent  for  the  visitors  and  waited 
thoughtfully  for  the  hour  of  his  appointment.  He 
found  Captain  Nelson,  w'hose  official  position  was 
now  fully  known  to  him,  waiting  on  the  steps  of  the 
treasurer's  office,  to  which  he  slowly  walked  through 
the  grounds. 

The  commandant  greeted  him  warmly.  He  was 
again  in  fatigue  dress,  and  his  strong  and  shapely 
shoulders  and  limbs  were  well  displayed  by  the 
dark  blue  military  suit. 

"I  have  a  boat  at  the  dock,  Mr.  Redford.  Shall 
we  have  our  talk  this  evening  undisturbed  on  this 
quiet  bay?  I  have  much  in  my  heart  to  disclose  to 
you." 

"Nothing  could  please  me  better,"  replied  Red- 
ford,  and  they  walked  slowly  down  Virginia  Hall 
and  through  the  grounds  to  the  water's  edge. 

The  moon  was  rising  full  and  the  air  was  still. 
123 


Chunda 

The  golden  light  of  sunset  yet  lingering  in  the  west, 
and  the  silvery  rays  of  the  moon  mingling  with  the 
deepened  red  light,  shed  a  peculiar  color  upon  the 
calm  surface  of  the  bay  as  the  boat  glided  out  from 
the  shadows  near  the  shore.  Captain  Nelson  had 
the  oars,  and  Redford,  sitting  in  the  stern,  held  the 
tiller  rope.  They  were  facing  each  other,  but  each 
felt  a  reluctance  to  begin  a  conversation  which 
would  gather  up  the  experiences  of  ten  eventful 
years.  Redford,  having  remained  in  the  far  South- 
west after  the  first  year,  had  lost  trace  of  the  Navajo 
boys  who  had  been  under  the  direction  of  the 
government  and  who,  with  changed  names,  could 
not  be  identified  without  personally  visiting  the  in- 
stitutions to  which  they  had  been  sent. 

They  were  far  out  on  the  bay  when  Redford  ven- 
turned  to  break  the  silence : 

"Captain  Nelson,  shall  we  not  talk  more  freely 
if  I  return  to  your  old  name.  Hot-si?" 

"Yes,  sir,  for  tonight  at  least.  It  will  bring  me 
to  the  frankest  talk  with  you." 

"You  are  greatly  changed,"  resumed  Redford. 

"There  was  great  need  of  change.  How  little 
the  Navajo  boy  understood  what  was  needed  to 
make  him  a  fit  companion  of  American  youth  and 
raise  him  to  the  level  of  a  Christian  manhood !" 

"Hot-si,  tell  me  how  you  began  this  new  life 
which  has  lifted  you  so  much  above  your  school 
fellows." 

"Yes,  sir;  that  will  touch  upon  the  very  thought 
I  wish  to  make  most  of  with  you  tonight.    I  came 

124 


Inspirations 

here  by  your  sending,  ten  years  ago,  a  rough  and 
ignorant  Navajo  boy.  Today  I  stood  among  some 
of  the  bravest  and  wisest  of  Americans  and  told 
them  the  principles  and  methods  required  in  a  suc- 
cessful industrial  education,  I  have  learned  to 
think  as  well  as  to  work  like  a  man,  and  then  to 
superintend  and  guide  others." 

"You  have  been  earnest  and  diligent,  Hot-si,  and 
will  reap  the  rewards  of  faithfulness." 

"I  have  not  done  it,  sir,  for  these  rewards  already 
gained,  nor  those  which  I  am  told  I  may  receive.  I 
have  been  impelled  all  these  years  by  some  power, 
I  know  not  what,  but  I  have  been  fulfilling  some 
other  purpose  than  my  own." 

"Have  you  had  no  strong  desire  to  learn?"  said 
Redford. 

"Yes,  but  the  more  I  wished  and  purposed  for 
myself,  the  more  I  seemed  the  servant  of  this  higher 
power.  I  learned  among  the  first  lessons  the  words 
of  the  Bible,  'In  him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have 
our  being,'  and  when  I  perceived  the  meaning  of 
those  other  words,  'As  many  as  are  led  by  the  Spirit 
of  God,  they  are  the  sons  of  God,'  I  felt  that  God 
was  in  me  leading  me  on,  and  that  his  Spirit  was 
helping  my  infirmities  and  ignorance,  so  that  I 
should  not  only  be  his  willing  child,  but  serve  him 
in  some  special  way." 

"Did  you  then  learn  to  do  easily  the  tasks  given 
to  you?"  asked  Redford,  with  an  earnestness  that 
he  could  not  conceal. 

"Yes.  When  once  I  had  learned  to  read  a  new 
125 


Chunda 

world  seemed  open  to  me.  I  took  special  interest  in 
figures.  All  the  studies  of  numbers  and  any  form 
of  mathematics  were  most  attractive  to  me.  I  was 
in  continual  excitement  over  the  problems  that  they 
presented.  The  use  of  tools  came  to  me  as  if  by 
instinct.  A  few  months  made  me  so  skillful  in  one 
trade  that  I  took  another.  Then  the  study  of 
physics  and  chemistry  began  to  absorb  my  thought 
night  and  day.  I  was  promoted  to  the  machinery 
department,  and  I  began  with  a  new  impulse  and  a 
still  deeper  interest  to  learn  the  first  things  there. 
I  was  curious  to  know  everything  about  a  machine. 
Not  a  rivet  escaped  my  notice.  I  could  in  six 
months  take  every  one  of  those  machines  apart  and 
put  it  together  again,  and  the  cause  of  any  irregu- 
larity or  stoppage  was  quickly  suggested  to  my 
mind." 

"For  what,"  asked  Redford,  "did  you  desire  to 
learn  all  these  things?  Were  you  trying  to  excel 
the  rest  of  the  workmen  among  your  schoolmates, 
or  were  you  thinking  of  some  advantage  or  position 
later  on  that  you  might  reach?" 

"Neither,"  said  Hot-si.  "I  always  felt  that  some- 
one needed  me  for  a  difficult  work.  I  tried  to  find 
what  it  was,  or  to  imagine  what  that  work  might 
be.  My  thoughts  often  went  back  to  my  people  in 
these  times  of  reflection.  That  morning  when  I  met 
you  lost  on  the  mesa  mountain  seemed  like  a  glitter- 
ing point  in  my  mind.  Those  scenes  at  Chin-a-li 
came  back  again  and  again  to  me.  The  night  when 
I  rode  out  from  the  Canon  de  Chelly  seemed  like  a 

126 


Inspirations 

dungeon  from  which  I  had  escaped.  Then  my  own 
Navajo  people  with  their  ignorance  and  foohsh  cus- 
toms and  fears,  their  poor  hogans,  and  restless  mov- 
ing from  one  part  of  their  country  to  another,  ap- 
pealed strongly  to  my  heart.  I  was  filled  with  a 
deep  pity  and  a  strong  love  for  them,  and  I  asked 
again  and  again,  What  can  I  do  for  them?"  Hot- 
si's  voice  trembled  with  the  emphasis  which  he 
unconsciously  placed  on  the  last  word. 

"Did  you  not  think  then  that  you  were  being  led 
on  for  their  sakes  to  such  wisdom  as  you  have 
gained?"  interposed  Redford. 

"Mr.  Redford,  the  thought  grew  upon  me  as  if  I 
had  a  revelation.  With  that  thought  you  again 
seemed  to  be  connected.  I  wondered  where  you 
were,  and  felt  I  must  unfold  it  to  you." 

"Hot-si,"  said  Redford,  deeply  moved  and  with 
a  low,  persuasive  tone  that  would  have  won  a  less 
willing  heart,  "have  you  confidence  enough  in  me, 
after  all  these  years  of  separation,  to  tell  me  all  your 
heart's  purpose?" 

The  oars  were  resting  upon  the  edge  of  the  boat. 
They  were  drifting  with  the  tide  down  to  a  point 
whence,  at  a  glance,  all  the  buildings  of  Hampton 
Institute  could  be  discerned,  half  in  shadow,  half 
in  the  soft,  silvery  rays  of  the  unclouded  moon  in 
that  brilliant  Southern  night. 

Hot-si  waved  his  hand  to  the  shore,  and  was 
silent  for  a  few  moments.  Then  almost  timidly  he 
asked : 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  begin  with  me  an  Indus- 
127 


Chunda 

trial  School  like  that  for  my  people  in  their  own 
reservation  ?" 

Redford  had  bent  forward  slightly  to  catch  every 
word  that  slowly  and  hesitatingly  came  from  his 
companion's  lips.  When  he  had  finished  he  reached 
forward  his  hand  toward  Hot-si. 

"Your  purpose  is  of  God,  my  brother.  How  can 
I  refuse  what  has  been  in  my  own  heart  night  and 
day  since  I  first  addressed  your  people  at  Chin-a-li  ?" 

Hot-si  rose  to  his  feet,  lifted  his  hands  to  heaven, 
and  stood  silently  looking  into  the  depths  of  the 
clear  night  sky.     At  length  he  said : 

"I  believe  the  spirits  of  my  fathers  are  near  us. 
They  pass  one  by  one  before  my  eyes  in  shadowy 
forms,  but  they  look  with  approval  upon  us.  They 
seem  to  plead  with  me  not  to  falter,  and  they  show 
me  a  bright  way  down  to  earth,  over  which  hun- 
dreds of  my  people  are  walking  and  climbing  to  the 
happy  spirits  of  their  ancestors.  Their  forms  grow 
brighter  in  the  light.  The  sign  is  good.  We  shall 
not  fail." 

Hot-si  had  become  more  than  a  Shaman.  He  was 
a  prophet ! 


128 


CHAPTER  XVI 

EULALIA     LAWTON 

EuLALiA  Lawton  at  twenty  yiears  reached 
that  period  in  womanhood  which  with  continued 
study  most  quickly  develops  its  powers  and  forms 
the  judgment  that  marks  the  character  it  will  bear 
through  life.  This  maturing  comes  ordinarily  at 
that  age  through  motherhood,  but  the  powers  thus 
given  to  another  life  may  be  made  to  serve  aspira- 
tions centering  in  her  own  development.  An  avidity 
for  knowledge  as  well  as  for  society  manifests  itself 
under  healthy  and  suggestive  influences.  The  na- 
tive traits  take  upon  themselves  a  bloom  and  a  bril- 
liancy that  attract  the  eager  notice  of  society,  which 
always  seeks  a  novelty  and  a  possibility  of  beauty, 
grace  and  wit  in  its  circle. 

Eulalia  was  a  diligent  student  for  the  next  five 
years  in  her  medical  course  and  hospital  practice. 
She  was  not  merely  a  plodder,  but  a  searcher  for 
wisdom  everywhere,  and  her  mind  was  hungry  for 
what  in  her  opportunities  was  growing  abundantly 
around  her.  There  was  novelty  to  her  in  every 
product  of  skill,  every  work  of  art.  The  pattern 
and  texture  of  dresses,  the  peculiarities  of  buildings, 
the  devices  of  furniture,  the  conveniences  of  travel, 
the  collections  of  antiquities,  and  the  styles  and  fash- 

129 


Chunda 

ions  of  the  past  were  always  interesting  and  exciting 
her  curious  observation.  Those  accustomed  from 
childhood  to  these  things  can  hardly  measure  the 
delight  with  which  they  are  perceived  and  studied 
by  one  who  reached  womanhood  in  a  tepee  or  a 
hogan  on  a  reservation.  Eulalia's  mind  from  the 
beginning  of  her  new  knowledge  never  lost  its 
ardor  of  search. 

With  the  advantage  of  friends  whose  companion- 
ship and  care  would  not  allow  her  to  be  exposed  to 
the  dangers  of  a  great  city,  she  went  everywhere 
under  suitable  protection.  In  love  with  knowledge, 
she  sought  her  early  and  late.  On  Broadway  and 
the  avenues,  in  the  shops,  in  the  museums  and  art 
galleries,  and  even  on  the  docks,  in  steamboats  and 
railroad  trains,  wherever  during  these  five  years  a 
leisure  hour  could  be  profitably  spent,  she  combined 
recreation  and  study.  So  she  learned  by  the  quick 
perception  remarkable  in  her  people  as  much  as  from 
the  books  she  diligently  read. 

When  Eulalia's  medical  course  was  finished  she 
had  time  during  hospital  practice  to  attend  scientific 
and  popular  lectures  in  entertainments  that  intro- 
duced her  to  the  progressive  thoughts  and  enter- 
prises of  the  times.  She  studied  city  institutions, 
especially  those  of  an  industrial  and  charitable  aim. 
She  began  to  enter  the  quiet  literary  circle  in  which 
Redford  and  his  family  moved,  and  became  a 
student  of  character  in  new  and  interesting  phases. 
She  was  sprightly  and  animated  in  her  conversation, 
which  seemed  like  the  bubbling  of  those  effervescing 
'  130 


EULALIA   LaWTON 

spring  waters  to  which  her  people  resorted  as  to  a 
sanitarium  of  nature's  own  providing. 

But  while  her  mind  was  settling  to  certain  tastes 
and  pursuits  she  was  wary  of  intimacies  with  her 
companions.  She  loved  the  family  of  her  benefactor 
with  genuine  and  unstinted  devotion.  She  had  im- 
plicit confidence  in  the  sisterly  affection  and  good 
judgment  of  Margaret,  whose  faithfulness  she  re- 
turned with  constant  sacrifices  for  her  pleasure. 
To  Mrs.  Redford  she  was  even  more  indebted,  for 
with  her  refinement  and  intelligence  she  cherished 
her  with  maternal  fondness.  By  an  excellent  liter- 
ary judgment  and  a  strong  Christian  sentiment  Mrs. 
Redford  became  an  invaluable  guide,  and  saved 
Eulalia  from  many  misdirections  of  her  own  im- 
pulses and  shaped  her  womanly  traits  to  strength 
as  well  as  beauty. 

Thus,  upon  a  nature  singularly  fresh  and  uncon- 
taminated  at  first,  was  built  a  discriminating  charac- 
ter of  no  ordinary  worth. 

One  morning  at  breakfast  Mrs.  Redford  turned 
to  Eulalia  and  said : 

"Mr.  Redford  has  invited  to  dinner  tonight  a 
gentleman  from  Hampton,  Virginia,  one  of  the 
instructors  there  who  was  in  the  office  yesterday. 
He  would  like  you  to  meet  him  Can  you  make 
your  arrangements  at  the  hospital  to  be  away  this 
afternoon  and  till  tomorrow  morning?  We  wish  to 
be  sure  that  you  will  be  free." 

"Happily,  dearest  mamma,"  Eulalia  said,  for  she 
always  thus  called  her,  "I  have  that  time  at  my  com- 

131 


ClIUNDA 

mand  today  as  special  reward  for  a  difficult  surgical 
operation  yesterday." 

"How  was  that,  Eulalia?"  asked  Mrs.  Redford. 

"The  doctors  in  charge  could  not  bring  their 
minds  to  perform  it.  They  believed  it  would  be 
fatal  to  the  patient,  who  seemed  to  be  rapidly  sink- 
ing ;  but  I  pleaded  for  the  woman  to  try  to  save  her 
life,  and  to  let  me  attempt  it,  if  they  would  not. 
When  it  was  well  over  they  all  declared  I  should 
have  two  weeks  off,  to  save  my  own  life,  as  they 
said." 

"Bravo,  Eulalia !  We  are  proud  of  you.  I  read 
of  it  in  the  evening  paper  as  a  brilliant  operation. 
You  shall  have  a  reward  in  meeting  somebody  worth 
knowing.  Mr.  Redford  found  him  last  month  at 
Hampton,  and  made  him  promise  a  visit  when  he 
should  come  to  New  York." 

"I  am  charmed,  dearest  mamma.  My  best  gown 
and  ribbons  have  been  waiting  for  a  proper  occasion, 
and  I  am  most  gratefully  yours  for  tonight,  without 
a  written  invitation.  I  am  going  to  spend  part  of 
the  morning  in  cultivating  feminine  tastes  in  the 
shops  on  Twenty-third  Street  and  return  two  or 
three  calls  on  the  West  Side  this  afternoon.  If  I 
can  get  a  three  hours'  sleep  in  between  these  press- 
ing duties,  will  you  mind?" 

"No,  indeed,  Eulalia ;  that  will  be  the  best  part 
of  your  holiday,  but  perhaps  you  will  prefer  the 
pleasures  of  the  evening." 

The  breakfast  was  over  and  the  family  separated. 

Seven  o'clock  w^as  near,  and  Eulalia  was  finish- 
132 


EULALIA   LaWTON 

ing  her  toilet  for  dinner.  Fortunately,  the  nap  had 
absorbed  the  hours  which  had  been  assigned  in  the 
morning  to  calls.  She  was  restful,  calm  and  happy 
from  its  refreshing,  and  for  the  unwonted  relief 
from  the  care  of  patients  and  with  the  sense  of  two 
weeks  of  entire  liberty  before  her. 

Mrs.  Redford  and  Margaret  had  just  seated  them- 
selves in  the  reception  room  when  their  guest  was 
announced.  At  the  moment  he  entered  the  room 
Eulalia  had  come  from  the  opposite  direction  and 
stood  gazing  curiously  while  he  was  saluting  Mrs. 
Redford  and  her  daughter.  He  had  been  cordially 
received  and  was  now  waiting  for  the  moment  when 
he  might  take  a  seat,  when  Mrs.  Redford,  who  had 
turned  toward  her  chair,  discovered  Eulalia. 

"Ah,  Captain  Nelson,  this  is  my  foster  daughter. 
Miss  Lawton.  The  Bishop  of  New  Mexico  and  I 
have  claims  that  cannot  be  reconciled  in  this  dear 
girl,  and  we  are  each  nearing  a  collision.  Perhaps 
before  the  evening  is  ended  you  can  tell  which  of  us 
has  the  better  right  to  claim  her.  Kindly  be  seated. 
Captain  Nelson." 

But  he  hardly  heard  her  command.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  with  wonder.  The  bright  red  of  Eulalia's 
cheeks  and  the  brunette  complexion,  fresh  and  vig- 
orous, but  softened  by  repose  of  body  and  spirit, 
would  have  attracted  anyone's  gaze;  but  there  was 
a  wakening  of  Nelson's  sharp  perceptions  to  recog- 
nition of  features  and  expression,  however  changed, 
that  held  him  for  an  instant  in  uncertainty.  Then 
rushed  back  from  his  fondest  recollection  an  ideal 

133 


Chunda 

face,  to  challenge  comparison  with  this  one  before 
him.  Only  an  instant  it  lingered.  What  was  the 
decision  of  his  mind  as  to  their  identity? 

Eulalia  had  been  at  advantage  in  the  moments 
that  passed  during  the  welcome  of  Mrs.  Redford 
and  Margaret,  but  her  womanly  perception  had 
flashed  at  the  first  look  a  recognition  of  her  Navajo 
lover  in  the  tall,  dark-skinned,  but  sharply  intel- 
lectual man  before  her. 

There  was  a  flutter  of  her  heart  for  a  moment.  It 
throbbed  wildly,  but  her  face  showed  no  sign  of  its 
violent  action,  except  a  growing  firmness  about  the 
mouth.  She  cast  a  second  look  full  into  Captain 
Nelson's  face  as  she  bowed.  Her  intuitions  were 
quicker  than  his.  She  saw  the  transformation  of  ten 
years,  from  a  youthful  lover  on  the  reservation  to  a 
man  of  force,  of  vigorous  will,  of  judgment,  self- 
reliant  and  sufficient  for  the  accomplishment  of  large 
purposes. 

The  womanly  reserve  of  an  equally  self-con- 
tained character  that  had  waited  in  its  development, 
unsought  for  yet  faithful  to  its  maidenly  pledge, 
assumed  control  of  Eulalia  in  that  moment.  They 
were  both  changed.  The  promise  of  youth  was  ful- 
filled, but  she  must  be  won  again  in  her  new  and 
larger  thought  and  life,  while  it  was  even  probable 
that  they  could  never  find  companionship  after  such 
divergence  from  the  thoughts  and  traits  of  their 
young  days. 

So  Eulalia's  decision  was  made.  Naturally  there 
was  an  instant  change  of  attitude  from  the  one  that 

134 


EULALIA    LaWTON 

at  first  recognition  seemed  unavuidable.  Eulalia's 
calm  and  steady  but  kindly  look  kept  the  Navajo 
lover  at  a  distance  and  gradually  brought  Captain 
Nelson,  commandant  and  instructor  at  Hampton,  to 
the  front.  He  recovered  himself  and  ceased  to 
wonder. 

Nelson  turned  to  Mrs.  Redford  and  said:  ''Your 
husband  has  been  most  kind  and  considerate  in  giv- 
ing me  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  and  your  family 
tonight." 

"Mr.  Redford  has  often  wished  for  this  oppor- 
tunity," she  replied  pleasantly.  "His  interest  in 
Hampton  seemed  to  center  in  you  and  your  kind 
attentions  to  him." 

"Mr.  Redford  was  more  than  a  guest  to  me,  my 
dear  madam,"  said  Nelson  warmly.  "He  bridged 
the  space  of  years  by  his  sympathy  with  my  most 
cherished  wish,  and  has  now  made  my  purpose  well- 
defined  and  one  that,  if  my  life  is  spared,  must  be 
fulfilled." 

Redford  now  entered  the  room,  and  as  he  finished 
his  greeting  to  Nelson  the  maid  appeared  at  the 
folding  door  and  announced  dinner. 

The  hostess  put  her  arm  in  Captain  Nelson's,  and 
as  they  walked  into  the  dining  room  said  in  low 
tones,  as  if  replying  to  his  last  words : 

"You  have  given  my  husband  new  courage  and 
hope  for  a  work  that  he  has  held  dear  to  his  heart 
for  many  years." 

Captain  Nelson  was  seated  at  Mrs.  Redford's 
right,  and  next  to  him  was  Eulalia.    Margaret  and 

135 


Chunda 

her  young  brother,  Vinton,  a  boy  of  fifteen,  were 
opposite. 

The  conversation  was  general.  The  dinner  was 
served  in  a  few  courses,  but  with  the  ease  and  grace 
suited  to  the  social  relations  of  the  family. 

As  they  grew  better  acquainted  Margaret  and 
Eulalia  vied  with  each  other  in  shrewd  and  lively 
replies  to  Redford's  suggestions,  who  kept  control 
of  the  table  talk. 

When  they  returned  to  the  parlor  Captain  Nelson 
took  a  seat  near  Eulalia  by  the  window,  as  far  as 
possible  from  the  others. 

'*Miss  Lawton,"  he  said,  hesitatingly,  "you  have 
surprised  me  indeed  by  the  power  with  which  your 
face  brings  back  old  scenes,  but  in  your  words  and 
manner  this  evening  I  find  no  recognition  of  the 
friend  of  my  boyhood  of  whom  you  remind  me." 

"That  was  to  be  expected,  Captain  Nelson,  if 
your  fancy  has  been  trying  to  clothe  me  in  a  blanket 
and  moccasins  in  order  to  get  a  familiar  glimpse  of 
me." 

"My  memory.  Miss  Lawton,  has  never  lacked 
skill  before  to  make  those  faces  distinct,  but  tonight 
it  is  in  a  daze.  It  seems  more  than  ten  years  since 
I  left  the  reservation  with  my  friend  here  and  his 
company  of  Navajo  girls  to  seek  my  fortunes  among 
the  white  people.  You  have  made  most  rapid  prog- 
ress away  from  your  past,  Miss  Lawton,"  he  con- 
tinued, after  a  pause. 

"But  you  have  been  far  ahead  of  me  in  your 
flight,"  she  hastily  replied.    "Those  birds  no  longer 

136 


EULALIA   LavVTON 

flock  together  that  stretched  their  wings  on  that 
day." 

"How  often  do  they  meet  in  air,  Miss  Lawton?" 
Nelson  said,  with  feeHng.  "It  is  when  they  hght 
upon  soHd  ground  that  they  can  exchange  their 
notes  of  welcome  and  sympathy." 

"You  have  not  forgotten  your  hunter's  craft, 
Captain  Nelson — but  Mrs.  Redford  is  coming  to 
speak  to  you." 

"Ah,  Captain  Nelson,"  said  his  hostess,  "I  must 
give  you  warning.  My  foster  child,  Eulalia,  is  for- 
bidden for  two  weeks  to  discuss  anything  serious  or 
bookish.  She  must  live  in  alternate  dreams  and 
waking  and  feed  on  the  fresh  air  of  the  Adiron- 
dacks.  My  dear  friends,  the  Oldhams,  today  offered 
us  their  cottage  at  Blue  Mountain  Lake,  while  they 
shall  be  absent  at  the  seashore.  Everything  there 
is  in  a  habitable  condition  for  them,  and  we  are 
welcome  to  all  its  comforts.  We  shall  take  the 
generous  fare  of  the  hotel  table  besides.  I  have 
invited  the  Bishop  of  New  Mexico  to  join  us  and 
he  will  spend  a  week  or  ten  days  as  our  guest  and 
give  us  two  Sundays  in  the  little  church  on  the  lake 
shore.  Will  you.  Captain  Nelson,  give  us  also  your 
presence  ?" 

There  could  be  but  one  response  to  such  hospital- 
ity. Besides  the  pleasure  of  intimacy  with  this 
lovely  family,  Nelson  could  meet  the  Bishop  to 
whom  of  all  others  his  thoughts  had  been  directed 
by  Redford  in  his  plans  for  the  welfare  of  his 
people. 

137 


Chunda 

"With  all  my  heart,  madam.  Nothing  could  suit 
me  better.  You  have  'my  thanks  in  advance,'  as 
they  now  write  when  they  ask  for  large  favors." 

So  the  half  hour  remaining  of  Captain  Nelson's 
visit  was  spent  in  a  lively  discussion  of  the  "outing." 


138 


CHAPTER  XVII 

REVELATIONS 

The  Redford  party  took  the  day  boat  to  Albany. 
The  night  was  spent  at  Saratoga,  and  an  early  start 
was  made  the  next  morning  by  rail  for  the  Adiron- 
dacks     The  stage  from  North  River  station  arrived 
at  Blue  Mountain  Lake  on  the  evening  of  the  second 
day     It  was  the  first  of  August,  and  there  had  been 
a  succession  of  showers  interspersed  with  hot  sun- 
shine through  the  day.    The  season  had  been  dry 
and  the   rains  thus  falling  for  several   days  had 
changed  the  thick  dust  to  mud,  but  their  effect  on 
the  hillsides  and  forests  was  delightful.     The  air 
was  fragrant  with  the  odor  of  pines,  and  the  stage 
ride   refreshed   instead   of   wearied   the   travelers. 
They  were  prepared  for  the  full  enjoyment  of  the 
new  kind  of  life  awaiting  them  in  the  rustic  cot- 
tages that  surrounded  the  hotel,  but  were  hidden 
in  the  oaks  and  pines  that  covered  the  steep  shores 

of  the  lake.  ,  .    ,,     j    i 

The  stage  was  driven  up  to  the  hotel  in  the  dark- 
ness, and  they  climbed  the  long  stairway  to  the 
veranda.  Each  of  the  party  entered  with  elated 
spirits  into  the  brightly  lighted  lobby,  but  they  were 
strangers  to  the  guests  of  the  hotel,  and  supper  was 
served  at  once.  Then  the  party  started  on  foot  with 
a  guide  and  lanterns  over  a  path  through  the  woods 

139 


Chunda 

to  Oldham  Cottage.  The  maid  in  charge  had  been 
notified  of  their  coming,  and  a  fire  was  burning  in 
the  huge  fireplace  at  one  end  of  the  reception  room. 

Margaret,  Vinton  and  Eulalia  had  hurried  for- 
ward to  the  cottage,  closely  followed  by  Nelson, 
while  Redford  and  his  wife  were  somewhat  behind. 

The  exterior  of  the  cottage  was  in  darkness,  but 
they  perceived  it  to  be  covered  with  great  sheets  of 
pine  bark.  The  interior  was  finished  with  partitions 
and  panels  of  pine  and  cedar  posts  still  retaining 
their  bark.  Broad  strips  of  white  birch  bark  filled 
the  panels,  which  were  bordered  with  turkey-red 
cloth,  and  the  rafters  were  visible  above  all  the 
rooms. 

The  floors  were  of  plain  wood  unpainted ;  the 
walls  and  window  seats  hung  with  skins  of  deer 
and  foxes,  mink  and  stuffed  birds.  Shotguns,  fish- 
ing rods  and  baskets  for  game  stood  in  the  corners, 
and  photographs  of  the  lakes  and  mountain  houses 
in  the  vicinity  covered  unsightly  places  in  the  pine 
slabs  of  which  the  walls  were  constructed.  Even 
the  furniture,  the  bedsteads,  the  divans  and  chairs 
were  made  with  rustic  frames.  But,  with  all  this 
rough  and  woodsy  material,  artistic  shapes  and  de- 
signs for  ornamentation  were  everywhere  visible. 

It  was  diflicult  to  tell  whether  the  effect  of  these 
surroundings  was  the  more  pleasing  to  Nelson  and 
Eulalia,  brought  up  in  the  rude  shelters  of  the  reser- 
vation, or  to  those  who  came  from  refined  homes. 
Certainly  they  revealed  to  the  former  a  new  sug- 
gestion of  adaptation  and  gradual  civilization  with 

140 


Revelations 

material  at  hand  for  the  homes  of  their  Navajo 
kinsfolk. 

Nelson  studied  with  a  critical  eye  every  device 
and  touch  of  an  artistic  hand  in  the  outward  shapes 
and  interior  arrangement  and  decorations  of  these 
summer  homes.  He  perceived  that  with  few  addi- 
tions they  could  be  made  comfortable  for  winter, 
and  so  suitable  for  his  people  in  their  warmer 
climate. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  the  family  were  quietly 
resting  in  their  apartments  in  the  cottage,  but  later 
still  when  Captain  Nelson  closed  his  eyes.  He  had 
been  reviewing  the  last  two  days  and  his  progress 
in  acquaintance  with  Eulalia.  On  the  steamboat 
they  were  often  together,  viewing  from  the  saloon 
deck  the  unrivaled  views  on  the  Hudson.  But 
every  hour  revealed  how  far  apart  they  had  gone  in 
their  sentiments.  There  was  no  word  of  love  be- 
tw^een  them.  There  was  but  little  allusion  to  the 
past.  The  second  day  Nelson  had  been  seated  by 
Margaret  in  the  highest  seat  on  the  top  of  the  coach, 
Eulalia  and  Vinton  Redford  below  them,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Redford  were  inside  passengers.  The 
frequent  showers  and  the  novel  scenery  had  given  a 
lively  but  desultory  cast  to  the  conversation.  They 
were  no  nearer  that  evening  to  an  understanding  of 
each  other's  hearts,  for  Margaret's  gayety  had  left 
no  time  for  serious  speech  between  them. 

The  morning  broke  clear  upon  the  lake,  and 
Nelson,  having  risen  early,  from  a  hill  to  the  south 
watched  the  sun's  first  beams  upon  the  beautiful 

•141 


Chunda 

sheet  of  water.  His  old  love  of  wandering  in  forest 
glades  was  aroused.  He  hurried  down  to  the  shore, 
and  finding  a  boatman  took  a  canoe  and  paddled 
far  out  into  the  lake. 

The  woods  and  mountains,  becoming  now  distinct 
before  his  eyes,  were  in  their  native  beauty  and 
grandeur,  untouched  by  the  hand  of  man.  He  had 
not  seen  their  like  since  he  left  the  reservation. 
From  their  sides  were  rolling  the  clouds  of  fog  that 
had  risen  earlier  from  the  lakes.  Nelson  turned  his 
canoe  to  cross  the  lake  through  islands  deeply 
wooded  which  rose  like  emeralds  from  its  crystal 
depths.  The  farther  he  paddled  the  nearer  he 
seemed  to  come  to  the  spirits  of  the  tribes  that  once 
dwelt  around  these  shores.  He  felt  that  he  might  be 
kindred  to  them,  at  least  in  sympathy  with  their 
simple  faiths  and  customs.  So  his  fancy  led  him, 
and  he  began  to  build  again  their  lodges  and  to 
descry  them  in  their  bark  canoes  following  the  deer 
that  plunged  into  the  lake,  and  to  hear  their  songs 
and  whoops  in  their  dances  on  these  green  islands 
that  he  was  passing,  whose  rocky  sides  rise  boldly 
from  the  deep  water. 

Suddenly,  in  his  reveries,  Nelson  heard  a  splash, 
and  he  turned  his  head  to  see  the  horns  of  a  buck 
that  had  come  furiously  down  the  hill  and  was 
swimming  for  the  opposite  shore.  The  distant  bay 
of  a  hound  told  Nelson  of  the  pursuit  that  had 
struck  terror  into  the  poor  beast,  which  had  been 
browsing  in  a  forest  glade. 

Nelson  was  transformed  into  a  hunter  once  more. 
142 


Revelations 

With  neither  rifle  nor  bow,  he  hastily  paddled  to- 
ward the  game.  His  canoe  quickly  overtook  the 
frightened  animal,  and  he  steered  between  him  and 
the  shore  which  he  had  almost  reached.  Nelson 
raised  his  paddle  to  smite  him,  when  the  soft,  be- 
seeching eyes  of  the  deer  caught  his  own.  He  hesi- 
tated, then  dropped  his  uplifted  arm  and  let  him 
pass. 

"No!"  he  said,  "my  poor  fellow,  you  are  like  my 
own  nation,  hunted,  crowded  back,  driven  from  their 
haunts,  pursued  by  greed  and  selfishness.  Flee, 
rather,  to  your  mate  and  escape  the  hunters.  'I 
have  come  not  to  destroy,  but  to  save.' 

'  He  prayeth  well  who  loveth  well 

Both  man  and  bird  and  beast. 

He  prayeth  best  who  loveth  best 

All  things  both  great  and  small ; 
For  the  dear  God  who  loveth  us, 
He  made  and  loveth  all.' 

The  buck  had  reached  the  bank  which  sloped  to 
the  water.  Nelson  saw  his  horns  disappear  amid  the 
branches,  and  he  listened  to  his  steps  bounding  up 
the  mountainside. 

"Saved!"  he  exclaimed,  and  he  lifted  his  eyes  to 
heaven.  "  'So,  O  God,  defend  us,  thy  •  humble 
servants,  in  all  assaults  of  our  enemies;  that  we, 
surely  trusting  in  thy  defense,  may  not  fear  the 
power  of  any  adversaries,  through  the  might  of 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.     Amen.'  " 

Nelson  paddled  back  thoughtfully  to  the  boat- 
house.     His  heart  was  full  of  tenderness  as  he  re- 

143 


ClIUNDA 

called  his  people,  and  his  projects  for  them  not  yet 
begun. 

He  mounted  the  stairway  to  the  veranda  of  the 
hotel,  and  found  there  Eulalia  and  Margaret  walk- 
ing up  and  down  its  long  reaches,  and  looking  out 
upon  the  surface  of  the  lake,  now  gray  with  rip- 
ples from  the  morning  breeze.  Their  cheeks  were 
fresh  from  sleep  in  the  mountain  air,  and  their  eyes 
glistened  with  delight. 

"Buenos  dias,  seiioritas !"  said  Captain  Nelson, 
cheerily,  as  they  approached  him.  He  did  not  know 
that  his  salutation  would  be  a  reminder  of  the  past, 
till  out  of  the  associations  with  his  latest  thoughts 
he  had  involuntarily  uttered  the  words. 

"Buenos  dias,  senor,"  said  Margaret,  joyously. 

"Good  morning,"  said  Eulalia,  more  quietly. 

"I  have  been  out  on  the  lake,"  said  Nelson,  "and 
have  found  already  what  will  be  our  greatest  diver- 
sion in  this  delightful  place."  Then  he  changed 
his  tone:  "I  hope  you  are  rested,  girls,  and  ready 
for  anything  today." 

"Yes,  indeed!"  said  Margaret,  "for  anything 
from  a  plunge  to  a  climb;  but  I  think  we  will  take 
breakfast  first.  Mamma  and  papa  are  already  in  the 
breakfast  room  waiting  for  us.  We  saw  you  com- 
ing over  the  lake." 

The  week  went  by  swiftly,  as  in  a  dream.  The 
first  day  was  given  to  canoeing,  till  they  could  mas- 
ter singly  or  by  twos  the  unsteady  craft,  and  with- 
out fear  venture  across  the  lake,  through  inlets  and 
outlets  into  others  for  many  miles,  or,  landing  upon 

144 


Revelations 

the  islands,  picnic  on  the  rocks  or  within  their 
deeper  shade.  Margaret  often  went  alone;  then 
Nelson  and  Eulalia  were  always  in  the  same  canoe, 
but  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Redford  joined  them  in  their 
picnic  teas  on  the  islands.  They  strolled  at  will 
along  the  mossy  paths  on  the  lake  shore,  played 
tennis  in  the  hotel  courts,  or  sat  upon  the  piazzas 
mingling  with  the  guests;  but  they  were  always 
comfortable  and  happy  when  gathered  in  the  quiet 
evenings  about  their  own  huge  fireplace  in  Oldham 
Cottage.  Then  Nelson  would  sometimes  tell  Na- 
vajo traditions.  For  a  couple  of  hours  every  morn- 
ing Redford  and  Captain  Nelson  discussed  most 
seriously  the  great  enterprise  which  it  was  in  their 
hearts  to  accomplish  for  the  Navajos.  Margaret 
had  found  some  young  men  acquaintances  among 
recent  arrivals  whose  diversions  drew  her  from  the 
rest  of  the  family,  and  so  the  interviews  between 
Eulalia  and  Nelson  were  daily  more  protracted. 

Were  they  advancing  on  the  flower-strewn  path 
of  love  ?  Had  they  yet  discovered  that  the  affection 
and  troth  of  youth  were  only  suited  to  another  sort 
of  life,  and  that  natures  so  transformed  in  each  by 
education  and  by  different  ruling  motives  would 
never  be  happy  together? 

Nelson  did  not  dare  to  speak  the  stronger  pas- 
sion that  now  controlled  him.  He  was  quick  to  see 
the  rare  and  richer  bloom  of  Eulalia's  nature.  It 
was  so  finely  wrought,  so  full  of  joyous  sentiment, 
and  so  unselfish  in  its  devotion  to  the  suffering  and 
needy  of  her  people  that  he  feared  to  test  its  leaning 

145 


Chunda 

toward  his  own  companionship  as  essential  to  her 
fullest  life  and  happiness. 

There  was  such  resource  of  good  in  herself,  such 
calm  and  untiring  search  for  the  true  and  helpful 
things  in  nature  and  art  and  humanity  to  ennoble 
herself  and  benefit  others  by  them,  that  he  well 
might  fear  it  to  be  an  intrusion  of  his  own  person- 
ality— a  conceit  of  his  own  growing  passion — to 
propose  that  he  share  her  life  and  unite  her  destiny 
to  his  less  complete  and  more  dependent  soul. 

It  was  Saturday  morning,  and  the  young  people 
had  wandered  up  the  hill  from  which  Nelson  had 
taken  the  first  view  of  the  lake  which  had  so  power- 
fully wakened  in  him  the  Navajo.  The  two  friends 
sat  apart  from  the  others  on  a  great  rock  in  a  field 
by  the  roadside  where  the  whole  effect  of  water, 
islands  and  distant  mountains  and  lakes  could  be 
taken  in  the  scene.  Eulalia  had  asked  Nelson  to 
recount  to  her  his  life  since  they  left  the  reservation 
together,  and  he  had  described  to  her  its  unfoldings 
of  desire  and  power  and  effort.  His  difficulties  in 
religious  training  and  beliefs  were  especially  nar- 
rated, and  his  final  settling  with  religious  theories 
by  resolving  to  devote  all  his  energy  and  skill  and 
knowledge  to  lift  his  own  Navajo  tribe  to  an  out- 
w^ard  equality  with  the  white  men,  or  at  least  to  set 
them  well  on  the  way  to  such  a  transformation. 

Eulalia  could  perceive  in  the  narrative  no  vital 
influence  of  their  early  love  on  his  daily  life.  After 
a  year  or  two  it  was  remembered  as  a  dream  that 
some  time  he  would  live  over,  but  it  had  guarded 

146 


Revelations 

his  heart  from  every  other  intruder  on  the  place  he 
had  given  it  there. 

The  young  people  were  returning  by  various 
paths  to  the  hotel  and  cottages.  Margaret  and  her 
friends  went  down  the  hill  to  the  lake  shore  and 
struck  into  a  path  that  ran  through  the  thick  woods 
along  the  uneven  banks.  Nelson  and  Eulalia  fol- 
lowed them,  but  so  far  behind  that  they  often  in  the 
leafy  path  lost  sight  of  those  ahead.  The  way  grew 
very  narrow,  and  they  had  to  walk  singly.  The 
habit  of  the  early  life  in  following  a  trail  was  un- 
consciously assumed.  Eulalia  was  behind  her  lover. 
Their  thoughts  fell  into  the  old  channels.  The 
mosses  and  the  trees,  the  rocks  and  the  birds,  the 
very  shading  of  the  path  by  the  sun-flecked  branches 
made  their  hearts  young  again,  and  they  talked  now 
of  those  early  years.  The  path  came  out  at  last  to 
the  little  Church  of  the  Transfiguration,  built  a  few 
feet  from  the  white  sandy  beach  of  the  lake,  amid 
tall  old  pines.  It  was  constructed  of  logs,  like  the 
cottages,  with  their  rough  outer  bark  carefully  pre- 
served, while  within  its  ceiling  of  native  pine,  its 
seats,  and  all  its  appointments  and  its  design  be- 
tokened the  taste  of  a  skilled  architect  and  the 
scrupulous  care  of  an  Anglican  priest. 

The  sight  of  this  chapel  in  the  woods  aroused  their 
admiration,  and  suggested  again  the  possibilities  of 
its  repetition  for  their  own  people  in  the  reserva- 
tion. Sitting  upon  a  log  lying  prone  upon  the 
white  sand  moistened  by  the  rippling  lake,  Nelson 
now  begged   Eulalia  for  the  story  of  her  school 

147 


Chunda 

and  college  life.  It  was  at  first  humorously  pictured 
to  her  friend.  The  child  spirit  again  came  back  to 
her.  She  told  in  Hght  and  easy  vein  a  tale  of  the 
first  three  years.  Then  she  depicted  the  brightness 
of  her  hope  of  meeting  her  mother,  with  its  sad  and 
pathetic  outcome.  Her  story  was  now  seriously 
unfolded.  Her  pity  for  her  kinsfolk  and  nation 
when  stricken  with  disease,  lonely  and  helpless  in 
their  hogans,  without  medical  care  or  assistance  till 
too  late  for  their  recovery,  and  the  purpose  to  de- 
'vote  her  whole  life  to  their  relief  was  calmly  but 
with  deep  feeling  explained  and  dwelt  upon  till  she 
could  say  no  more. 

Their  hearts  for  all  these  years  now  were  open  to 
each  other's  scrutiny.  They  had  kept  their  word,  so 
early  plighted  beneath  the  cliffs  of  the  Canon  de 
Chelly,  but  Nelson's  absorbing  zeal  for  knowledge 
had  made  him  delay  to  claim  her  young  maiden  love 
for  him,  and  he  had  even  been  indifferent  at  times 
to  know  her  fate.  Chance  or  design  had  brought 
them  together.  Was  it  too  late?  Certainly  not  for 
Nelson's  love.  The  brand  smoldering  in  his  bosom 
had  quickened  into  a  consuming  flame  at  sight  and 
acquaintance  with  this  once-betrothed  child,  but 
now  a  high-souled  woman. 

There  was  no  mistaking  his  passion  now,  and 
when  he  recognized  its  full  force  and  claim  he  fol- 
lowed its  behest. 

Eulalia  had  finished  her  story. 

"Loved  friend  of  my  youth,"  he  pleaded,  with 
deep  and  trembling  voice,  "let  me  have  the  place  I 

148 


Revelations 

once  could  claim  so  unworthily.  Your  destiny  de- 
manded a  nobler  companion.  Can  I  not  be  that? 
I  offer  you  now  a  better  self,  but  you  are  risen  so 
much  beyond  me  that  I  pray  for  your  tender  regard 
— for  your  love  to  take  me  into  its  ennobling  influ- 
ence and  to  make  me  only  your  equal  in  unselfish- 
ness— your  helper  and  protector  in  fulfilling  life's 
duty!" 

Eulalia  turned  her  flushed  face  calmly  to  his, 
and  with  her  clear,  dark  eye  searching  his  spirit 
replied : 

"Captain  Nelson,  for  these  ten  years  past  I  have 
not  been  first  in  your  earthly  thoughts,  and  the 
stronger  passion  of  your  soul  has  been  only  for  a 
work  for  our  people  that  was  worthy  indeed  of  the 
noblest  and  most  unselfish  spirit.  I  also  have  given 
myself  to  my  people." 

Nelson  would  have  spoken  here,  but  a  nameless 
fear  was  creeping  into  his  spirit. 

"I  do  not  doubt,"  she  continued,  "the  sincerity 
of  your  confession  of  your  present  devotion  to  me, 
but  is  it  now  a  love  stronger  than  any  other  pur- 
pose— stronger  than  death?  We  had  better  fulfill 
each  our  greater  duty  alone,  and  wait  for  other 
years  to  make  our  happiness  complete." 

"Miss  Lawton!  Chunda!  Forgive  me,"  said 
Nelson,  rising  and  holding  out  his  hand.  "Do  not 
give  answer  yet  to  this  question.  Not  yet.  No! 
Let  a  few  more  days,  if  need  be,  be  allowed  us  both 
among  these  scenes  so  like  those  of  our  early  love. 
Here,  if  anywhere,  you  may  learn  the  strength  of 

149 


Chunda 

my  love  and  our  need  of  each  other  in  raising  our 
people  to  a  better  life,  like  ours  now." 

She  grasped  his  hand  gently  but  firmly  for  a 
moment,  and  then  they  turned  toward  the  road  that 
led  up  to  Oldham  Cottage. 


ISO 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


ON    THE    HEIGHTS 


No  arrival  could  have  been  more  welcome  at  Old- 
ham Cottage  than  that  of  the  Bishop  of  New  Mexico 
on  the  Saturday  evening  which  closed  the  first  week 
at  Blue  Mountain  Lake.  He  had  already  met 
Eulalia  several  times  in  New  York,  and  was  strongly 
convinced  of  her  fitness  for  her  chosen  work.  Her 
occasional  letters  had  led  him  to  form  a  sincere 
affection  for  his  protegee,  who  had  won  his  respect 
by  her  ability  and  her  singular  devotion  to  the 
beneficent  scheme  in  which  she  intended  to  use  the 
remarkable  skill  already  attained  in  her  profession. 

Captain  Nelson  was  a  new  acquaintance  to  the 
Bishop,  and  the  unfolding  of  his  plan  in  a  long  con- 
ference that  evening  with  him  and  Mr.  Redford  had 
filled  his  heart  with  serious  thoughts  of  the  way  to 
accomplish  so  great  a  work  for  the  redemption  of 
nearly  twenty  thousand  Navajos  from  barbarism. 

The  next  morning  he  rose  early  to  meet  a  few 
faithful  communicants  at  holy  communion.  In  com- 
pany with  Mr.  Redford  he  went  down  to  the  little 
church  among  the  trees,  which  were  dripping  with 
the  heavy  dew.  He  stood  a  while  on  the  shore  and 
looked  out  upon  the  smooth  surface  of  the  lake,  in 
deep  shade  along  the  banks  from  the  dense  woods, 
above  which  the  sun  had  not  yet  risen.    Farther  out, 

151 


Chunda 

where  the  water  was  rippled  by  the  Hght  breeze 
coming  down  the  mountainside,  were  to  be  seen 
two  or  three  canoes  headed  directly  toward  the 
church.  In  the  bow  of  one  of  these  canoes  was 
standing  upright  a  large  cross  of  white  lilies,  gath- 
ered from  the  lake  and  arranged  by  some  faithful 
churchwoman  to  decorate  the  altar.  As  they  neared 
the  shore  a  city  rector  staying  across  the  lake  rose 
in  the  boat,  and  with  his  companion,  who  had  held 
the  oars,  lifted  out  the  cross  and  brought  it  to  land. 
Saluting  the  Bishop,  the  three  clergymen  went  into 
the  little  vestry  room,  while  five  or  six  communi- 
cants from  the  rector's  church,  leaving  their  canoes, 
joined  the  group  of  twenty  or  more  gathered  from 
the  cottages  to  receive  holy  communion.  Among 
these  were  kneeling  near  the  chancel  Margaret  and 
Eulalia,  and  Captain  Nelson,  a  later  comer,  was 
near  the  door. 

On  two  hearts  at  least  in  that  little  company  were 
resting  burdens  that  needed  to  be  lifted;  two  were 
seeking  the  leading  of  that  kindly  light  that  has 
often  entered  weary  minds  in  the  wilderness.  For 
these  two  hearts  it  was  a  hallowed  service  of  con- 
fession, of  prayer  for  help  and  guidance,  of  quick- 
ened faith,  of  renewed  devotion.  It  gave  also  to 
the  Bishop  officiating  the  theme  of  his  sermon,  which 
was  to  strengthen  many  worshipers  in  the  later  serv- 
ice :  "The  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  him, 
and  by  his  stripes  we  are  healed." 

The  next  day  was  the  Feast  of  the  Transfigura- 
tion.    The  church  was  nearly  filled  with  communi- 

152 


On  the  Heights 

cants  at  the  holy  celebration  which  followed  morning 
prayer.  The  Bishop,  in  his  short  address,  described 
the  effect  on  weary  and  troubled  minds  of  scenes  of 
beauty  in  the  companionship  of  those  endowed  with 
physical  grace  and  beauty.  "The  three  disciples 
were  able  to  look  upon  what  w^as  more  enrapturing 
to  the  eye  than  any  earthly  sight  could  be — the  trans- 
figured beauty  of  the  Son  of  man  when  his  divine 
nature  irradiated  his  human  form  and  features. 
While  the  harmony  of  their  surroundings  in  ethereal 
loveliness  perfected  the  picture  before  the  ennobled 
gaze  of  the  three  disciples,  Saint  Peter  could  well 
say  it  w-as  good  to  be  there;  and  they  desired  to 
abide  and  listen  to  heavenly  themes  while  Moses 
and  Elias  conversed  with  their  Lord.  But  what 
did  they  hear  from  their  lips  ?"  continued  the  Bishop. 
"As  they  talked  of  the  things  which  should  yet  be 
in  the  earthly  life  of  the  Son  of  God,  they  heard 
of  the  sufferings  he  should  yet  accomplish  ere  his 
purpose  and  work  should  be  fulfilled.  So  is  it," 
concluded  the  Bishop's  address,  "that  in  our  mo- 
ments of  highest  spiritual  elation  we  shall  so  clearly 
see  the  shadow  of  earth's  need  and  our  own  part 
in  the  sorrows  of  men  that  we  may  be  able  to  heal 
and  purify  them." 

By  previous  arrangement,  the  afternoon  of 
Transfiguration  Day  was  given  to  the  ascent  of  Blue 
Mountain.  It  rose  directly  above  the  cottages,  but 
could  be  approached  only  by  the  road  winding  up 
to  the  rock  already  described,  where  Nelson  and 
Eulalia  had  been  seated  when  he  told  her  the  story 

153 


Chunda 

of  his  education.  A  party  had  gathered  directly 
after  noon  from  the  hotel  for  the  mountain  climb, 
in  which  the  guests  at  Oldham  Cottage  had  been 
invited  to  join. 

The  path  led  at  first  through  open  fields,  and  the 
company  was  divided  into  groups  of  five  or  six 
persons.  But  as  the  way  became  steeper  and  en- 
tered the  heavier  w'oods  it  separated  these  clusters 
of  gay  and  sedate  people  into  closer  companionship 
as  they  straggled  up  the  mountainside.  The  rough 
path  became  formidable  to  weaker  limbs,  and  strong 
arms  were  often  needed  to  pull  the  climbers  up  and 
over  the  bowlders  that  could  not  be  avoided. 

At  last,  by  a  deliciously  cold  spring  with  mossy 
sides,  flowing  close  to  the  trail,  the  Oldham  cot- 
tagers found  a  desirable  spot  to  take  a  long  rest. 
Here  they  could  get  glimpses  of  the  forests  and  hills 
and  lakes  below  them  like  a  paradise  hidden  from 
mortal  sight,  but  seen  occasionally  through  the 
clouds  which  our  spiritual  fancies  pierce,  or  which 
break  into  rifts  before  the  tearful  eyes  of  those  who 
sorrow  in  hope  of  a  better  and  brighter  world. 

Eulalia  and  her  lover  in  the  excitement  of  their 
arduous  climbing  had  felt  again  the  powder  of  early 
impressions  and  were  in  the  happy  moods  of  their 
childhood  days.  They  talked  with  utmost  freedom 
to  Redford  and  Margaret.  They  laughingly  told 
the  romances  of  their  tribe,  sometimes  so  absurd  as 
to  make  the  woods  ring  with  the  merriment  excited 
in  their  friends  as  well  as  in  their  own  hearts  by  the 
recital.    Again  they  began  to  climb,  and  in  half  an 

154 


On  the  Heights 

hour  came  out  upon  the  rocky  summit,  bare  of  trees 
but  piled  with  massive  bowlders  which  were  sur- 
mounted by  the  frame  of  an  observatory  raised  for 
government  surveys. 

From  this  lofty  spot  the  sight  of  forty  or  fifty 
glistening  lakes  amid  the  wide-spreading  wilderness 
of  forest,  and  the  mountain  ranges  sixty  miles  away, 
rising  in  dim  outlines  on  the  horizon,  translated 
them  to  the  regal  mountain  chains  of  their  own 
country.  They  stood  in  silent  admiration  of  the 
view  for  a  few  minutes,  then  they  sought  a  com- 
manding ledge  for  a  seat,  while  others  of  the 
numerous  party,  scattering  over  the  mountain  top, 
strolled  to  nearer  points  of  observation. 

Eulalia  and  Nelson  were  lifted  by  the  familiar 
scenes  of  the  unsubdued  wilderness  and  by  the  rare- 
fied air  of  their  position  on  the  mountain's  crest  to  a 
spiritual  level,  while  their  thoughts  harmonized. 
Their  visions  of  their  own  selves  were  clarified. 
They  discerned  in  sharper  lines  their  separate  mis- 
sions for  their  people. 

Eulalia  saw  the  fallen  raised,  their  enfeebled 
bodies  clothed  with  vigor,  their  wan  faces  turned 
to  smiles  with  a  healthy  glow,  and  with  gratitude 
for  the  tender  care  and  wonderful  skill  which  had 
saved  them  from  despair  and  death. 

Nelson  beheld  the  ignorant  groping  no  longer, 
but  gladly  searching  for  the  truths  of  nature  around 
them  and  of  the  spiritual  life  within  them.  They 
wrought  at  occupations  like  other  American  citi- 
zens,  equal  with   them   in  political   rights.     They 

155 


ClIUNDA 

improved  their  own  lands,  builded  their  own  houses, 
carried  on  trades  and  manufactures,  planned  and 
developed  their  own  progress  in  the  arts  of  Ameri- 
can life,  and  ventured  sometimes  to  higher  knowl- 
edge and  taught  their  people  the  gospel  of  an  earthly 
redemption  and  of  a  future  life. 

Drawn  by  a  common  purpose,  they  turned  toward 
each  other. 

"Eulalia,"  said  Nelson,  "can  you  not  see  that  our 
paths  lie  like  those  two  silvery  chains  of  lakes  be- 
tween the  green  forests  yonder,  ever  nearer  to  each 
other  as  they  stretch  out  toward  the  west?  In  the 
horizon  that  bounds  our  view  they  seem  to  unite. 
Our  thoughts  fly  swiftly  along  those  waters  toward 
the  land  of  our  mothers.  Can  w^e  do  for  the  people 
there  wdiat  our  hearts  now  plan  without  each  other's 
sustaining  love?  How  easy  it  was  for  us  just  now 
to  climb  together  that  steep  path !  Its  difficulties 
brought  us  only  to  aid  more  constantly  each  other. 
Love  transfigures  duty  whether  we  toil  for  ourselves 
or  others.  To  lift  a  fallen  fellow  sinner  to  hope 
and  truth,  how  blessed!  to  raise  one's  own  people 
to  the  respect  and  fellowship  of  citizens  in  this  won- 
derful republic,  and  to  share  this  work  together! 
Can  God  call  us  to  a  higher  duty,  or  let  our  paths 
separate  when  we  might  have  this  joy,  Oh,  dearest 
friend,  to  sow  and  reap  together?" 

Eulalia  lifted  her  dark  eyes  to  Nelson  as  he 
paused,  and  now,  with  a  look  of  mingled  admiration 
and  devotion  that  was  tinged  with  pain,  she  softly 
answered : 

156 


On  the  Heights 

"When  your  little  Chunda  left  you  it  was  to  make 
herself  a  worthier  helpmate  to  you.  There  was  no 
thought  then  of  these  many  years  of  toil  and  sepa- 
ration that  have  rolled  between  us.  Your  trusting 
little  maid  had  been  lonely  and  sad,  but  never  has 
she  been  untrue  to  you,  and  now  her  brave  hunter 
boy  comes  back  to  ask  her  to  share  his  nobler  life 
and  the  destiny  of  her  own  people  whom  he  would 
save.  Does  he  think  that  Eulalia  is  now  less  mind- 
ful of  the  high  purpose  and  honored  station  of  her 
lover  than  when  he  was  the  son  of  a  chief,  roaming 
in  idle  hunting  over  the  reservation  ?  Does  he  think 
that  she  has  less  love  in  her  woman's  heart  and  her 
own  enlarged  powers  to  give  him  now  ?  I  am  yours 
now  as  I  always  have  been  in  heart,  but  a  thousand 
times  more  because  you  ask  me  to  love  you  in  a 
service  which  we  have  each  received  from  the  Lord 
who  has  redeemed  us  and  given  us  a  higher  faith 
and  purpose!" 

Nelson  saw  the  love  light  in  her  eyes  grow  dim 
with  tears.  As  he  seized  her  hand  the  sight  of  some 
of  the  party  strolling  near  restrained  a  more  tender 
embrace. 

"Dearest  Eulalia,"  he  said — "no,  let  me  call  you 
now  'my  little  Chunda'  as  of  old — why  does  this 
shadow  darken  your  beautiful  eyes  in  this  moment 
of  my  supremest  joy?  Tell  me  your  deepest 
thought.  Am  I  not  forgiven  my  neglect,  my 
wretched  heedlessness  of  you  when  I  was  swept 
along  by  my  mad  thirst  to  know  and  do  everything 
to  make  me  worthy  of  my  life's  aim?    Oh,  darling, 

157 


Chunda 

forget  it  now,  when  we  both  may  be — when  we  are 
once  more — so  happy.  Have  we  not  waited  long 
enough  to  take  the  joy  of  these  moments  in  a 
higher,  purer  and  nobler  love  than  we  as  children 
could  know?" 

"Mr.  Nelson,"  said  Eulalia  slowly,  but  he  inter- 
rupted her. 

"You  do  not  like  my  old  name.  I  beg  you  take 
my  Christian  name  on  your  sweet  lips,  for  here  we 
can  hardly  seal  our  vows  as  lovers  may." 

"Edward,"  she  said,  with  a  rich  glow  rising  from 
her  cheeks  to  her  beautiful  eyes,  "I  have  read  in 
this  hour  another  lesson  with  this  dear  one  of  love, 
that  somehow  the  high  purposes  in  each  of  us, 
which  it  makes  more  sacred,  will  require  of  us 
suffering  in  that  love  itself  which  now  seems  to  give 
us  more  strength  and  promise  of  success.  Can  our 
plighted  love  bear  to  give  its  own  price  of  pain  for 
the  privilege  of  this  mutual  and  undivided  work  that 
is  worthy  of  our  whole  lifetime?" 

"Darling,"  said  Nelson  thoughtfully,  "you  have 
seen  farther  than  I  today  into  the  mysteries  of  re- 
demption, I  have  seen  the  glory  in  its  glistening 
whiteness;  you  have  heard  the  whisperings  of  the 
glorified.  You  speak  of  sufferings,"  he  continued, 
"by  which  this  work  of  ours  may  be  accomplished. 
Your  love,  so  true  and  deep,  so  sensitive  to  its  perils, 
has  opened  my  eyes  also  to  see.  It  would  be  perfect 
love  that  casteth  out  fear.  It  is  the  love  of  our 
hearts,  yet  only  human.  It  shrinks  from  tests  like 
suffering  in  itself,  like  separation;  but  if  God  be  in 

158 


On  the  Heights 

us  and  in  this  love,  now  we  may  trust  to  its  fidelity. 
I  know  not  how  to  name  this  fear,  but  whenever  it 
comes  let  us  remember  that  true  love  will  not  ask 
us  to  sacrifice  a  purpose  great  and  noble,  for  which 
we  have  prepared  to  live,  though  it  may  lead  us  into 
tests  that  our  single  lives  would  not  have  needed." 

Eulalia  looked  up  into  his  face  pale  with  high 
resolve. 

''You  have  spoken  sweetly,  bravely,  Edward  dar- 
ling, and  as  my  own  heart  wished  to  speak,  but  so 
much  better.  You  are  my  guide  and  helper  hence- 
forth, and  I  shall  be  your  inspirer  and  sympathizer, 
but  let  us  each  hold  at  any  cost  to  ourselves  the 
sacred  duty  of  our  lifework." 

The  love  light  shone  steadily  in  her  eyes  now — 
the  shadow  had  passed. 

They  rose,  and  as  they  were  approaching  Mar- 
garet and  her  father  Eulalia  said: 

"I  shall  begin  my  work  ere  I  leave  yonder  lake 
below  us  that  has  mirrored  in  its  depths  the  mys- 
tery of  our  love.  I  will  ask  our  Bishop  to  accept 
me  now  for  his  helper  to  redeem  the  Navajos," 

Redford  now  came  toward  them  alone,  while 
Margaret  halted  to  talk  with  a  friend  who  had  just 
come  up  the  mountain. 

"Mr.  Redford,"  said  Nelson,  "we  have  a  great 
favor  to  ask  of  you.  Will  you,  who  have  so  long 
been  a  faithful  friend,  give  your  willing  consent 
that  I  may  become  the  protector,  if  I  am  not  worthy 
to  be  the  guide,  of  this  dear  girl?  See,  you  read  in 
her  own  happy  face  the  urging  of  my  plea !" 

159 


Chunda 

"I  wouldn't  try,"  said  Redford,  with  a  demure 
look,  "to  separate  this  mountain  from  that  lake  if  I 
had  the  power.  I  think  I  would  try  my  faith,  if  I 
were  so  disposed,  on  some  easier  task  than  to  keep 
apart  two  hearts  and  lives  that  have  been  made  one 
by  nature  and  grace.  No;  rather  with  my  consent 
I  give  you  my  heartiest  congratulations !  Marga- 
ret," he  continued,  for  they  had  now  come  near  to 
her,  "look  at  your  wayward  sister!" 

Margaret  turned  her  head,  gave  one  glance  at 
the  radiant  faces,  and  sprang  to  her  feet.  It  was 
but  a  moment  ere  she  had  reached  Eulalia  and, 
throwing  her  arms  around  her  neck,  whispered 
laughingly  one  word  in  her  ears,  and  kissed  her 
again  and  again  on  both  cheeks. 

Then,  holding  her  hand  out  to  Nelson,  she  said : 

"A  sweeter,  rarer  flower  was  never  plucked  than 
you  have  taken  to  yourself  today.  Captain  Nelson, 
you  are  indeed  a  happy  man.  God  keep  you  to- 
gether !" 


i6o 


CHAPTER  XIX 
A  woman's  pleading 

The  spacious  parlor  of  Blue  Mountain  Lake 
Hotel  is  filled  with  guests  from  the  hotels  and  cot- 
tages in  the  vicinity  of  the  lake  invited  by  the  Bishop 
of  New  Mexico  to  listen  to  an  address  on  "Navajo 
Women  and  Their  Needs."  The  novelty  of  the 
topic  and  the  beauty  and  attractiveness  of  the 
speaker,  already  celebrated  in  this  region,  have 
drawn  together  an  eager  audience  on  this  Sunday 
evening, 

Eulalia's  engagement  to  Captain  Nelson  has 
stirred  the  community  to  an  extraordinary  degree 
of  favorable  comment.  It  has  met  the  Bishop's 
hearty  approval,  and  has  commended  also  her  desire 
to  begin  at  once  her  enterprise,  to  which  she  is  now 
impelled  with  greater  intensity.  Instead  of  dwelling 
selfishly  and  indolently  in  the  happy  fulfillment  of 
their  mutual  love  by  its  plighted  troth,  it  has  added 
an  impetus  to  her  life  by  enlarging  her  sympathies 
and  ennobling  her  thoughts  upon  the  distresses  and 
needs  of  her  people.  The  Bishop  is  now  ready  to 
further  the  plans  which  he  had  himself  so  long 
cherished  for  the  relief  of  this  needy  portion  of  his 
charge. 

Eulalia,  with  a  simple  trust  in  God's  power  to 
make   effective   an    appeal    to   the   hearts    of    her 

i6i 


Chunda 

friends,  has  dXiring  the  week  recalled  many  scenes 
of  her  girlhood  till  she  left  her  people.  Her  quick- 
ened sympathies  have  dispelled  her  fears,  and  she  is 
impatient  to  give  her  message. 

Her  own  plans  are  distinct  in  her  mind.  During 
her  medical  studies  and  practice  she  has  carefully 
watched  for  everything  that  would  be  valuable  to 
her  in  the  inauguration  of  a  hospital  for  women. 
With  a  practical  mind  she  has  also  noted  the  cost  as 
well  as  use  of  every  appliance  in  nursing  and  sur- 
gery that  would  be  useful  to  her.  One  of  her 
patients,  moved  by  her  skill  and  devotion  to  her  pro- 
fession, has  interested  a  friend  who  was  an  eminent 
architect  to  make  plans  for  a  hospital  building. 
These  she  has  now  with  her,  and  has  often  con- 
templated them  with  quickened  zeal  to  begin  her 
undertaking.  Her  faith  that  it  can  be  accomplished 
has  been  strong.  God  will  open  the  way,  she  is 
confident,  when  she  shall  need  the  funds. 

Now  the  hour  has  come  for  her  to  act.  She  is 
happy,  earnest  and  humbly  confident  that  she  can 
speak  from  her  heart,  and  for  a  real  and  pressing 
need.  Will  not  this  be  enough  to  move  and  persuade 
those  who  have  the  ability  and  willingness  to  act 
nobly  and  generously  for  their  fellow  beings  ? 

The  audience  was  chatting  with  the  freedom 
characteristic  of  a  parlor  entertainment,  when 
Eulalia,  following  the  Bishop  with  Mrs.  Redford, 
made  her  way  through  the  company  to  a  small 
table  in  the  center  of  the  room  opposite  the  huge 
fireplace.     The  chairs  had  been  arranged  so  that 

162 


A  Woman's  Pleading 

the  people  were  facing  Eulalia,  on  whose  face  the 
cheerful  blaze  was  casting  a  varying  light  as  she 
stood  near  the  wall. 

The  Bishop  offered  two  collects  from  the  evening 
prayer  service.  Then  he  introduced  Miss  Lawton 
with  a  brief  but  hearty  recommendation  to  the 
guests,  believing  that  her  graceful  but  modest  pres- 
ence would  make  the  most  favorable  impression. 

"Dear  friends,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  sweet  voice, 
'T  take  your  hands  tonight  and  ask  your  sympathy 
and  aid  in  the  work  I  have  chosen  to  do  for  my 
people.  I  seem  to  myself  to  be  one  of  you,  for  my 
education  and  training  for  ten  years  have  been 
wholly  with  the  kindest  citizens  of  this  great  repub- 
lic. I  am  a  foster  child  of  Americans,  but  I  am  an 
orphan  of  the  Navajos.  JMy  heart  has  not  forgot- 
ten its  kinswomen,  and  I  love  my  adopted  people  for 
all  they  are  and  have  been  to  me.  It  is  my  strong- 
est desire  to  make  my  nation  one  with  yours,  at  least 
in  your  virtues,  your  charities,  your  lovable  traits. 
If  they  cannot  be  as  wise  or  graceful,  I  would  have 
them  become  in  time  as  good  and  beneficent  as  you 
are. 

"I  pray  you  to  hear  what  my  kinspeople  are  now, 
and  what  they  need  to  learn,  so  that  the  sweet  chari- 
ties of  a  Christian  land  may  include  them  in  the 
words  of  my  Master  for  you :  'Inasmuch  as  ye  have 
done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye 
have  done  it  unto  me.' 

"I  was  brought  up  in  a  hogan  until  I  was  a  maiden 
of  fifteen  years.    My  mother,  blessed  to  my  earliest 

163 


Chunda 

memory  for  the  comfort  and  strength  she  gave  to 
all  her  sisters  in  their  need,  went  from  hogan  to 
hogan  to  minister  to  the  sick.  The  plight  of  a 
Navajo  woman  when  disease  has  seized  upon  her  is 
indeed  sad.  She  has  no  bed  but  a  pile  of  blankets 
on  the  damp  earth,  no  protection  from  the  rain  or 
snow  or  cold  when  the  storms  blow  through  the 
walls  of  branches  intertwined  and  plastered  imper- 
fectly with  mud.  She  has  ng  food  suitable  for  the 
weakened  stomach,  no  baths  for  her  fevered  body, 
no  cleanly  garments  or  wraps,  no  disinfectants  to 
destroy  the  germs  of  disease.  Her  lungs,  through 
exposures  from  earliest  childhood,  are  easily  affected 
by  dread  consumption ;  her  blood,  weakened  by  lack 
of  nourishment,  is  filled  with  fever, 

"Her  children,  if  she  be  a  mother,  are  uncared 
for  and  crying  for  food.  Her  husband  hates  sick- 
ness, and  often  leaves  his  offspring  to  the  mercy  and 
care  of  some  other  woman,  whose  hogan  is  distant, 
and  leaves  his  wife  to  die  through  neglect  and  the 
comfortless  conditions  of  her  illness. 

*Tn  the  hour  of  woman's  sorest  need  she  is  no 
better  protected.  In  childbirth  the  care  of  her  help- 
less babe  in  its  earliest  hours  is  committed  to  igno- 
rant and  unpitying  hands.  Only  the  strongest  chil- 
dren can  long  survive  the  exposure,  and  soon  the 
weaker  and  more  feeble,  inheriting  disease,  espe- 
cially if  they  are  girls,  pine  away  and  die. 

"These  are  some  of  the  sad  conditions  of  woman- 
hood among  the  Navajos,  But  often  a  woman  there 
has  a  heart  that  feels  deeply  for  her  sisters.     So  it 

164 


A  Woman's  Pleading 

was  with  my  mother.  She  learned  the  arts  of  mirs- 
ing  and  midwifery,  and  for  love's  sake  only,  with 
scarcely  ever  a  reward,  she  alleviated  the  sorrows 
of  women,  and  saved  their  children  from  sickness 
and  death.  Well  was  she  named  Hedipa.  She 
brought  comfort,  and  the  character  of  her  work 
and  the  devotion  of  her  life  to  it  ennobled  her  mind 
and  made  her  a  willing  convert  to  the  Christian 
faith  when  she  first  heard  from  my  honored  friend 
and  teacher  here  tonight  of  Him  who  'carried  our 
sorrows'  and  'was  acquainted  with  grief.'  When 
after  three  years  I  returned  to  the  reservation  from 
school  I  sought  for  this  mother,  only  to  find  her 
resting  in  the  moments  of  dying  in  the  inexpressible 
comfort  from  the  presence  of  the  'Lover  of  her 
soul.' 

"It  was  most  natural  that,  by  my  frequent  pres- 
ence with  my  mother  in  these  hogans  of  the  sick, 
I  should  learn  to  pity  them  and  seek  to  aid  them. 
The  early  bent  of  my  mind  appeared  when  I 
learned  how  white  people  bear  one  another's  sutTer- 
ings ;  how  they  lift  burdens  from  the  weak ;  how, 
by  remedies  and  skillful  nursing,  they  heal  the  sick. 

"I  bethought  me  of  doing  for  my  Navajos  as  I 
had  seen  them  serve  their  own.  Especially  would 
I  try  to  save  Navajo  womanhood  from  its  degrada- 
tion, its  despair,  and  the  quick  inroads  of  disease  by 
administering  to  my  sisters  the  comforts  with  which 
you  surround  yours. 

"Dear  friends,  the  Navajo  woman  is  worth  sav- 
ing.    She  has  a  peculiar  place  among  her  people. 

165 


Chunda 

God  has  given  her  the  spirit  of  industry,  of  pru- 
dence, of  kindness  and  of  perseverance.  She  is  the 
stronger  mind  among  her  people  by  reason  of  these 
very  traits.  She  is  the  provider  and  conductor  of 
her  home. 

"The  Navajo  man  has  his  place,  but  it  is  oftener 
that  of  a  boarder  and  an  ornament  than  as  a  column 
of  strength  to  the  household.  He  is  great  in  coun- 
cils, and  in  entertainments  for  his  people.  His  legs 
are  strong  for  dancing,  and  his  jaws  are  mighty 
for  talking  and  eating.  He  has  a  heart  that  is  brave 
for  fighting,  but  a  hand  that  is  weak  for  working. 

"But  the  fault  lies  in  his  traditions  rather  than  in 
his  natural  abilities.  Tradition  has  been  kind  to 
the  Navajo  man's  conscience  as  to  the  necessity  of 
toil.  Tradition  has  established  his  dignity  and 
made  the  woman  the  chief  sustainer  of  it  and  the 
manager  and  shaper  of  his  simple  household. 

"The  Navajo,  therefore,  does  not  condemn  him- 
self in  this  his  ornamental  position  any  more  than 
the  well-dressed  sentinel  who  stands  as  guard,  simply 
stands  at  the  gate  of  your  dwelling,  or  as  the  police- 
man who  makes  his  beat  from  one  street  corner  to 
another,  clothed  with  authority  and  absent  for  an 
emergency.  To  the  Navajo  man,  however,  the 
emergency  seldom  comes  now,  for  we  have  to  be  at 
peace  with  the  white  man  and  have  no  near  Indian 
neighbors ;  consequently,  he  cannot  be  blamed  for 
waiting  in  idleness,  since  neither  his  traditions  nor 
the   American   nation    have   thus    far   taught   him 

better. 

i66 


A  Woman's  Pleading 

"When  the  school,  my  friends,  shall  have 
awakened  to  his  consciousness  the  manhood  of 
labor,  of  providing  for  the  family,  of  giving  com- 
forts to  the  sick  and  caring  for  the  weak,  and  of 
improving  himself  and  his  nation,  the  Navajo  man 
will  be  found  as  efficient  as  are  often  your  sons, 
when,  reduced  from  wealth  and  ease  to  the  neces- 
sity of  toil,  they  take  foremost  places  in  business 
and  professions. 

"We  all  need  education.  The  United  States 
government  began  to  educate  its  Indian  wards  by 
choosing  rather  the  sons  than  the  daughters.  But 
the  Apache  mother  shapes  the  character  of  her  sons. 
She,  not  the  father,  by  better-cooked  food  and  bet- 
ter-designed clothing  and  the  comforts  of  a  cabin, 
however  rough  it  may  be,  can  make  her  boy  unwill- 
ing to  go  back  to  the  hogan  and  the  blanket. 

"Happily,  the  Navajo  mother  has  by  tradition  and 
by  nature  the  right  of  influence,  and  of  determining 
the  economies  of  the  home.  The  Navajo  is  of  one 
race  with  the  Apache — the  wildest  and  most  savage 
Apache.  Let  us  try  a  few  arts  of  living  which  you 
can  teach  us,  and  we  shall  easily  assume  the  customs 
of  a  higher-bred  people.  Let  the  Navajo  woman 
become  like  yourselves,  honored  hearers,  so  far  as 
you  have  become  what  you  are  by  education. 

"The  Navajo  woman  is  wifely  in  her  taste  and  in 
her  morals.  She  would  ever  be  faithful  to  the  love 
of  one  husband  and  to  the  care  of  her  children. 
She  is  progressive.  She  learns  through  quick  per- 
ceptions the  qualities  which  women  like  vourselves 

167 


ClIUNDA 

possess.  She  is  religious.  The  Shamans  have 
strongest  hold  on  her  through  her  faithful  worship 
of  the  nature  god  of  the  Navajos  and  her  fear  of  the 
spirits  of  the  air,  but  they  rule  the  Navajo  men 
through  their  love  of  idleness. 

"The  Navajo  woman  is  diligent.  She  raises  the 
wool  which  she  weaves  into  clothing  for  her  tribe. 
She  is  influenced  by  kindness,  and  does  not  forget 
the  hands  that  have  ministered  to  her,  especially  in 
her  suffering. 

*'AIy  friends,  you  are  indeed  Christians  in  your 
charities.  This  beautiful  land,  these  great  cities 
where  we  live  are  full  of  the  works  of  those  who 
love  their  kind  for  the  orphan,  for  the  aged,  for  the 
sick.  But  there  are  many,  for  whom  I  plead,  so 
far  off  that  they  have  no  helpers.  No  eye  that  pities 
sees  them ;  no  hand  that  is  skilled  saves  them  by  its 
ministering.  You  have  true  sympathy  for  work 
that  will  permanently  change  and  raise  your  fellow 
men  to  something  like  your  own  high  position 
among  those  who  call  this  beautiful  earth  their 
home.  I  pray  you,  therefore,  to  consider  such  an 
opportunity  as  I  may,  though  unworthily,  open  to 
you  for  your  disinterested,  your  purely  unselfish 
charity. 

"In  the  Cafion  de  Chelly,  the  home  of  my  child- 
hood, there  is  a  beautiful  meadow  a  mile  long  and 
half  a  mile  wide.  It  is  surrounded  by  massive  cliffs 
whose  peaks  rise  in  curious  shapes  above  the  canon 
walls.  A  stream  of  pure  water  runs  through  it,  fed 
by  springs  in  the  farther  end  of  the  gorge.     Its  air 

i68 


A  Woman's  Pleading 

is  that  of  an  elevation  of  three  thousand  feet  above 
the  sea.  It  is  dry  and  pure  and  heaUhfiil,  and  this 
valley  is  sheltered  from  high  winds  and  blinding- 
sandstorms  which  prevail  on  the  mesas  above  it. 

"I  have  the  permission  of  the  government  at 
Washington,  obtained  by  our  honored  Bishop,  of 
founding  on  an  island-like  elevation  in  the  midst 
of  this  valley  a  hospital  which  shall  be  a  house  of 
comfort  for  the  women  and  children  of  my  people. 
This  plateau  is  in  a  location  central  to  the  great 
Navajo  reservation,  and  the  Canon  de  Chelly  at  the 
seasons  of  planting  and  harvesting  of  crops  and 
fruits  is  always  populous. 

"One  of  your  skilled  architects  has  planned  for 
us  this  building  for  the  hospital.  It  can  be  erected 
by  the  aid  of  willing  Navajos  and  a  few  skilled 
American  workmen  for  ten  thousand  dollars.  It 
will  be  a  permanent  structure  with  every  needed 
convenience.  Two  thousand  dollars  will  equip  the 
hospital.  Then  five  thousand  dollars  yearly  will 
maintain  it  as  a  free  shelter  for  the  sick,  to  whom 
I  will  devote  my  medical  services  and  also  superin- 
tend the  trained  nurses  who  have  already  offered 
their  iiwaluable  cooperation  in  this  Christian  enter- 
prise. 

"We  are  assured  of  protection  from  the  honor- 
able Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs  and  the  hon- 
orable Secretary  of  War,  who  will  station  a  detach- 
ment of  soldiers  at  Chin-a-li  whenever  there  shall 
be  need.  With  the  favor  of  the  President  himself, 
who  has  made  every  department  at  Washington 

169 


Chunda 

friendly  to  my  purpose ;  with  the  Christian  counsels 
of  my  beloved  and  honored  Bishop,  who  will  be  the 
responsible  trustee  of  the  funds  provided  by  good 
people,  I  make  my  humble  plea  to  you  tonight  for 
my  own,  for  Christ's  little  ones,  for  the  poor  and 
ignorant,  the  sorrowing  and  helpless  in  my  native 
land!" 

As  Eulalia  ceased  a  genuine  applause  came  from 
the  guests,  but  all  remained  in  their  seats  as  if  bound 
by  the  spell  of  a  good  angel's  presence  and  voice 
speaking  to  them  of  heaven-born  charity. 

The  silence  grew  oppressive.  The  Bishop  stepped 
forward  and  asked  if  there  was  anyone  who  wished 
to  make  response  to  this  young  woman's  words. 

"Yes,"  said  a  lady  of  striking  presence  and  in- 
fluence, "I  think  our  hearts  are  all  touched  by  this 
story  of  women's  and  children's  need,  and  by  the 
devotion  of  this  life  of  no  ordinary  powers  to  their 
salvation.  I  would  like  to  be  one  of  this  company 
tonight  who  will  build  that  house  of  shelter  and 
comfort  to  the  sick  in  that  beautiful  spot.  There 
are  a  hundred  willing  and  able  women  here  who 
can  do  this  Samaritan  work  to  begin  the  redemption 
of  a  nation  from  barbarism.  I  will  speak  for  ten 
of  these  women  and  pledge  one  thousand  dollars." 

"And  I,"  said  another,  "will  speak  for  twenty 
and  pledge  two  thousand  dollars." 

"I  will  speak  for  five  and  pledge  five  hundred 
dollars." 

"I  will  soeak  for  twenty  and  pledge  two  thousand 
dollars." 

170 


A  Woman's  Pleading 

*'I,"  said  a  young  woman  from  the  farther  part 
of  the  company,  "will  speak  for  myself  and  pledge 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars." 

"And  I,"  said  another  near  her,  "for  my  hus- 
band and  myself,  will  give  five  hundred  dollars." 

Then  came  voices  from  men  and  women  for  sums 
of  one  hundred,  fifty,  and  five  hundred  dollars,  until 
the  ten  thousand  dollars  was  pledged  and  the  names 
passed  up  with  their  cards  to  the  Bishop. 

The  amazed  and  grateful  girl  had  at  first  joined 
in  the  enthusiasm  that  the  larger  subscriptions  had 
excited  among  the  guests,  but  when  one  and  another 
rose  to  make  their  pledges,  and  the  amount  rapidly 
increased,  Eulalia's  smiles  were  turned  to  tears  of 
gratitude,  and  she  hid  her  face  on  the  shoulder  of 
Mrs.    Redford. 

In  a  few  moments  she  recovered  her  self-control 
and  rose  to  bow  to  the  audience  when  the  Bishop 
announced  the  completion  of  the  subscription. 

"My  friends,"  said  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop 
of  New  Mexico,  "it  would  have  been  nothing  ex- 
traordinary for  one  to  secure  the  investment  of  ten 
thousand  dollars  in  good  railroad  stocks  from  this 
company,  but  it  is  of  God  that  you  have  given  so 
freely  tonight.  Thy  people  shall  be  willing  in  the 
day  of  thy  power.' 

"I  am  happy  to  say  that  already  the  auxiliary 
societies  of  an  Eastern  diocese  have  put  into  my 
hands  a  sum  sufficient  to  equip  this  building  as  the 
originator  has  planned,  and  I  pledge  for  them  two 
thousand  dollars." 

171 


Chunda 

Then  Redford  told  briefly  the  story  of  Hedipa's 
trusting  soul  as  it  passed  to  a  better  world,  and  a 
hymn  was  sung  before  the  Bishop  gave  the  bene- 
diction. 

As  the  guests  were  dispersing,  a  gracious  woman 
in  deep  mourning,  in  whose  face  shone  benevolence 
in  combination  with  great  good  sense,  addressed 
Eulalia : 

''Will  you  promise  me  a  week  at  my  country  home 
in  Whitby  on  the  Hudson  River  after  September 
first?" 

The  Bishop  turned  toward  her  as  Eulalia  hesi- 
tated at  the  stranger's  request. 

"Why,  my  dear  Airs.  Sansom,  you  have  main- 
tained this  evening  more  self-restraint  than  I  ever 
knew  you  before  to  possess  when  any  good  work 
was  to  be  done!" 

"Yes,  Bishop,  but  this  little  woman  pulled  too 
hard  at  my  heartstrings  for  me  to  speak." 

"Eulalia,  you  will  find  a  good  friend  in  this  dear 
lady.     Give  her  all  the  time  she  wants  from  you." 

"I  shall  gladly  follow  where  you  lead  me,"  Eulalia 
replied,  turning  cjuickly  to  the  lady,  "and  will  be 
most  happy  to  be  with  you,  madam." 

There  was  unspeakable  joy  in  Oldham  Cottage 
that  night.    There  was  joy  among  the  angels. 


172 


CHAPTER  XX 


A    GODSPEED 


Captain  Nelson  wisely  kept  himself  from  obser- 
vation in  that  parlor  assembly  on  Sunday  evening. 
This  he  could  do  easily,  for  the  rooni  was  crowded 
to  the  doors.  But  he  listened  with  a  throbbing 
heart.  He  was  astonished  at  the  entire  forgetful- 
ness  of  self  in  Eulalia's  address.  It  was  free  from 
apparent  effort  to  command  attention,  and  yet 
riveted  every  eye  upon  the  speaker  with  a  response 
to  it  by  the  company  which  conclusively  showed  the 
power  of  its  direct  and  simple  speech.  Eulalia's 
personal  traits  doubtless  contributed  much  to  its 
effect.  It  was  a  truthful  expression  of  her  nature. 
The  arguments  were  hidden  in  her  statement  of 
facts,  and  her  humor  and  pathos  were  mingled  with 
sincere  respect  for  those  who  listened  and  those  for 
whom  she  pleaded. 

Nelson  was  proud  of  his  betrothed  as  her  address 
thus  revealed  her  ability,  her  acquirements,  her  sin- 
cerity and  her  personal  beauty  in  a  new  light.  He 
was  prouder  still  that  she  was  true  and  loyal  to  her 
birth  and  had  not  been  alienated  from  her  nation 
and  kindred  by  her  education,  nor  in  her  conceit 
despised  them  because  they  were  lowly  and  ignorant. 
While  her  Christian  faith  was  sincere  and  powerful, 
its  transformation  of  her  character  left  her  still  one 

173 


Chunda 

with  them.  In  his  heart  he  praised  her  single- 
minded  devotion.  He  saw  her  going  before  him  in 
her  efforts  for  their  people,  but  he  acquiesced  in  that 
with  a  genuine  admiration  of  her  ability  to  do  so, 
and  secretly  rejoiced  that  his  own  plans  would  give 
fullest  effect  to  her  undertakings. 

This  first  week  of  bethrothal  had  ennobled  each 
by  the  consciousness  not  only  of  a  true  and  strong 
love,  but  with  the  sense  that  they  were  both  work- 
ing with  God  for  the  redemption  of  his  children. 

"Eulalia,"  said  the  Bishop  on  Monday  morning, 
"what  will  you  do  now  with  this  money  that  is 
pledged  for  your  hospital?" 

"I  will  go  at  once  to  prepare  the  way  for  its 
erection  as  soon  as  the  funds  shall  be  placed  in  your 
hands." 

"But  how  can  you  do  this  alone?" 

"I  will  go  back  to  spend  the  winter  at  the  agency, 
and  personally  meet  my  kinsfolk.  Can  I  not  get 
appointed  as  assistant  physician  to  the  agency?" 

"I  will  make  a  personal  appeal  to  the  Commis- 
sioner for  you,  if  that  is  desirable." 

"A  winter  thus  passed  with  my  people,  and  with 
whatever  skill  I  can  command  in  my  practice,  will 
win  their  confidence  and  favor." 

"Will  you  make  known  your  purpose  to  them  ?" 

"By  all  means.  With  the  authority  and  duties 
of  my  position  I  shall  be  safe  from  the  Shamans' 
wrath,  and  I  may  gradually  find  the  men  who  will 
aid  me  in  gathering  materials  for  the  building. 
Early   in  the   spring,  "Eulalia   continued,  "if  you 

174 


A  Godspeed 

will  get  the  Department  to  survey  and  appropriate 
the  land,  I  will  be  ready  to  begin  building.  In  one 
year  from  now  we  shall  be  ready  to  receive  our 
patients.  Alas !  I  know  too  well  how  soon  we  shall 
be  straightened  to  accommodate  and  care  for  them 
all." 

The  Bishop  perceived  with  pleasure  Eulalia's 
forethought  and  ability  to  direct  her  affairs. 

The  party  left  Oldham  Cottage  on  Wednesday. 
Though  the  stage  was  driven  to  the  hotel  steps  at 
an  early  hour,  many  guests  were  standing  on  the 
veranda  to  bid  them  good-bye.  Eulalia's  departure, 
through  the  favor  she  had  so  quickly  won,  excited 
unusual  interest.  As  she  was  descending  the  steps 
two  gentlemen  accosted  her,  and  urged  her  to 
accept  in  behalf  of  the  men  who  had  listened  to  her 
a  purse  to  aid  in  her  personal  expenses  while  pre- 
paring for  her  building.  It  contained  a  hundred 
gold  double  eagles. 

In  a  few  grateful  words  she  sent  her  warmest 
thanks  to  the  donors  for  their  timely  gift,  and  in  her 
excitement  climbed  to  the  highest  seat  on  the  coach. 
Not  a  few  tears  were  dropped  amid  the  waving  of 
handkerchiefs  for  the  girl  who  had  come  like  an 
angel  of  mercy  among  them,  and  many  a  deep 
"God  bless  you !"  was  heard  as  the  coach  moved  off 
and  disappeared  in  the  turn  of  the  road  beneath  the 
trees. 

Eulalia's  resignation  of  her  position  at  the  hos- 
pital in  New  York  brought  to  her  mingled  regrets 
and  congratulations,  and  one  or  two  of  the  nurses 

175 


ClIUNDA 

begged  her  to  send  for  them  as  soon  as  she  could 
use  their  services. 

Mrs.  Sansom  received  her  guest  at  Whitby  with 
a  tenderness  that  showed  the  deep  impression 
already  made  upon  her.  She  was  a  widow  left  with 
a  large  property  and  two  children.  Her  son,  physi- 
cally strong,  had  honored  in  his  college  course  his 
father's  reputation  as  a  successful  merchant,  but  her 
daughter's  hcallh  had  failed, and  only  during  the  last 
winter  she  had  died,  leaving  her  mother  inconsolable. 

"Miss  Lawton,"  said  her  friend  one  day,  "I  have 
looked  forward  to  this  visit  with  the  hope  that  you 
would  make  clear  to  me  the  way  to  fulfill  a  sacred 
trust.  You  have  won  my  own  and  my  son's  respect 
and  confidence  by  your  loveliness  of  character  and 
by  your  clear  views  of  how  your  plans  are  to  be 
accomplished.  Your  success  in  your  medical  pro- 
fession, I  am  told,  is  assured  in  whatever  position 
you  choose  to  use  your  gifts  and  acquirements;  but 
I  am  sure  that  in  your  own  character  you  bear  the 
seal  of  God's  favor  as  a  chosen  instrument  of  ele- 
vating and  blessing  your  nation.  My  daughter's 
estate  was  left  to  me  to  be  devoted  especially  to  the 
relief  of  suffering.  The  income  of  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars  is  available  for  this  purpose  during 
my  lifetime.  Then  the  principal  can  be  given  in 
trust  to  the  worthiest  and  most  efficient  object  which 
it  has  aided.  I  felt  during  your  address  it  might  be 
most  wisely  used  by  your  hands,  and  both  my  son 
and  myself  are  glad  to  offer  the  entire  income  for 
five  years  to  maintain  your  hospital  work  among  the 

176 


A  Godspeed 

Navajos.  If  it  shall  become  permanently  established, 
the  principal  will  be  given  at  my  decease,  in  trust  to 
the  church  or  to  the  government,  for  its  continued 
support.  Will  you  accept  me,  therefore,  dear  Miss 
La\\i;on,  as  a  life  partner  in  your  ministrations  by 
the  means  I  will  confide  to  you  from  my  daughter's 
estate?  While  I  live  it  shall  be  held  in  trust  for  the 
Hedipa  Hospital  in  Cafion  de  Chelly,  and  as  the 
Helen  Sansom  Endowment  Fund  when  I  am  gone." 

Eulalia  was  silent  as  the  full  meaning  of  this  offer 
unfolded  itself  to  her  mind.  In  her  soul  was  the 
surprise  of  faith,  the  conscious  effort  to  express  her 
boundless  gratitude  to  her  benefactor,  the  solemn 
sense  of  the  Divine  Spirit  coworking  with  her. 
Then  she  impulsively  threw  herself  at  Mrs.  San- 
som's  feet,  and  with  the  guilelessness  of  a  child 
looked  up  into  her  face  with  speechless  love. 

"God  knows,"  at  length  she  said,  *'how  my  heart 
has  been  drawn  to  you  while  I  have  been  under  your 
roof.  I  have  thought  of  nothing  like  this  when  I 
have  hoped  you  would  yet  show  your  sympathy  with 
my  cherished  object,  but  I  am  overwhelmed  with  the 
sense  of  my  Saviour's  love  in  this  request  of  yours. 
He  tells  me  by  it  that  I  am  his  child,  his  servant,  but 
he  makes  me  feel  also  that  I  must  walk  through 
some  great  sorrow  to  perfect  my  work  for  him.  Yet 
I  will  follow  whithersoever  he  leads.  My  heart  is 
full  of  the  joy  of  faith  fulfilled  that  my  purpose  is 
also  his.  How  I  shall  love  you  always,  dear  Mrs. 
Sansom,  always,  for  joining  by  such  a  gift  the  name 
that  is  dearest  to  you  with  that  of  my  mother!" 

177 


Chunda 

Mrs.  Sanson!  held  in  tenderest  embrace  Eulalia's 
clinging  form,  around  which  she  had  cast  her  arms 
in  making  this  gift.  Then  she  kissed  her  brow  and 
said  cheerily  through  her  tears: 

"My  dear  girl,  I  will  make  my  gift  known  to  your 
Bishop,  to  whom  I  have  already  confided  my 
thoughts;  and  my  son,  who  is  in  full  accord  with 
me,  has  promised  to  have  the  necessary  legal  papers 
made,  that  your  mind  may  be  at  rest  and  you  may 
have  the  hearty  cooperation  of  the  government." 

"Thank  you,  dear  Mrs.  Sansom,  beyond  all  words 
of  gratitude.  Dearer  than  your  gifts  even  will  be 
the  assurance  of  your  constant  love  and  prayers 
that  I  may  have  the  wisdom  which  is  from  above." 

The  next  week  Captain  Nelson  returned  to 
Hampton,  and  the  Bishop  of  New  Mexico  went  with 
Eulalia  to  Washington  to  perfect  arrangements  with 
the  Indian  Bureau.  The  Commissioner  and  the 
Secretary  of  the  Interior  willingly  acceded  to  the 
suggestion  that  Dr.  Lawton  be  appointed  as  agency 
physician  at  Fort  Defiance  in  place  of  the  incumbent, 
who  had  already  applied  to  be  transferred  to  a 
vacancy  in  the  Pine  Ridge  agency.  Their  ready 
consent  was  easily  given,  for  the  humane  projects 
of  the  Bishop  and  his  protegee  were  not  in  conflict 
with  the  government  policy  of  educating  all  its 
Indian  pupils. 

Eulalia's  acquirements  and  successful  medical 
record  had  also  been  carefully  investigated  and  ap- 
proved. Her  personal  attractions  confirmed  the 
judgment    already    formed    that,    as    an    educated 

178 


A  Godspeed 

woman  of  her  tribe,  she  had  special  fitness  to  accom- 
pHsh  a  work  which  would  inevitably  be  in  conflict 
with  the  traditions  and  system  of  Shamanism  in  her 
tribe.  The  question  was  now  fully  considered  how 
to  make  this  effort  an  eminent  success  with  the 
unobtrusive  protection  of  the  army. 

It  was  decided  that  orders  should  be  given  to  the 
general  commanding  the  Department  of  New  Mex- 
ico and  Arizona  to  afford  all  needed  protection  at 
any  and  all  times  at  his  discretion  to  those  engaged 
in  the  conduct  of  hospital  work  among  the  Navajos. 
Similar  orders  were  issued  to  the  agent  of  the  Nava- 
jos by  the  Commissioner  of  the  Indian  Bureau. 

Eulalia  begged  permission  to  call  upon  the  Presi- 
dent, and  one  evening  he  sent  to  her  a  note  request- 
ing her  to  come  to  the  White  House,  and  after  kind 
inquiries  about  herself  and  tribe  the  President  gave 
her  this  message  to  them,  to  use  always  when  it 
would  further  her  projects  : 

"Tell  them  that  I  am  sorry  for  their  sufferings; 
that  I  wish  them  to  improve  their  lives  by  diligent 
labor  and  following  the  example  of  good  men ;  and 
that  I  show  my  earnest  care  for  them  by  sending 
back  to  them  you,  yourself,  one  of  their  own  chil- 
dren, to  heal  them  and  teach  them  how  to  keep 
themselves  and  their  children  healthy  and  happy." 

With  a  light  heart  Eulalia  returned  with  the 
Bishop  to  New  York.  In  two  weeks  she  parted  with 
the  loved  family  of  her  benefactor  and  was  speed- 
ing on  her  way  to  her  distant  charge,  with  their 
heartiest  blessings. 

179 


CHAPTER  XXI 


A    BROKEN    r-LEDGE 


The  members  of  the  Committee  on  Indian  Ap- 
propriations of  the  House  of  Representatives  were 
sitting,  in  the  easiest  positions  they  could  find,  in 
their  committee  room  in  the  Capitol  at  Washington 
one  morning  in  January.  Mr.  Elton,  their  chair- 
man, had  represented  his  state  during  many  terms 
of  Congress,  and  his  commendations  of  any  propo- 
sition had  great  weight  with  the  committee.  When, 
therefore,  he  introduced  to  them  Mr.  Redford,  as  a 
friend  who  had  long  experience  with  some  of  the 
Apache  tribes,  who  were  among  the  largest  and 
most  difficult  of  all  for  whom  Congress  had  to  legis- 
late, unusual  attention  was  given  to  this  gentle- 
man's statements. 

Redford  referred  in  his  introduction  to  the  obli- 
gations of  the  United  States  to  provide  schools  and 
other  helps  to  civilization  by  the  treaty  of  1868  with 
the  Navajos. 

"This  treaty,"  he  stated,  "was  made  when  indus- 
trial education  in  its  present  efficiency  and  extent 
and  variety  of  trades  and  occupations  was  not 
thought  of  for  our  own  children,  much  less  for  the 
Indian  wards  of  the  government,  or  for  the  colored 
population  of  the  South." 

Then  he  quoted  the  requirements  of  this  treaty : 
180 


A  Broken  Pledge 

"  The  Navajos  shall  compel  their  children,  male 
and  female,  between  the  ages  of  six  and  sixteen 
years  to  attend  school,  and  it  is  hereby  made  the 
duty  of  the  agent  for  said  Indians  to  see  that  this 
stipulation  is  strictly  complied  with ;  and  the  United 
States  agrees  that  for  every  thirty  children  between 
said  ages,  who  can  be  induced  or  compelled  to  attend 
school,  a  house  shall  be  provided;  and  a  teacher 
competent  to  teach  the  elementary  branches  of  an 
English  education  shall  be  furnished,  who  will  reside 
among  said  Indians,  and  faithfully  discharge  his  or 
her  duties  as  a  teacher.' 

"The  provisions  of  this  article  w-ere  to  continue 
ten  years.  So  discreet  and  experienced  an  official 
of  the  government  as  General  W.  T.  Sherman  had 
signed  this  treaty,  convinced  of  its  propriety  and 
justice  and  need.  The  obligation  of  the  government 
had  been  but  partially  fulfilled  by  the  erection  of  one 
schoolhouse  and  the  maintenance  of  a  school  at  the 
Fort  Defiance  agency  in  the  reservation. 

"Progress  in  education  in  this  country  had  shown 
a  better  way  to  elevate  an  ignorant  and  savage  tribe 
than  to  teach  them  the  elements  of  the  English  lan- 
guage. The  separation  of  the  pupils  from  the 
immediate  influences  of  the  liogan  and  their  idle 
parents,  and  placing  them  in  large  schools  w^hich 
combined  many  advantages,  was  now  believed  to  be 
the  most  effective.  These  w-ere  furnished  also  with 
the  tools  and  implements  for  manual  training  suited 
to  raise  them  from  their  low^  conditions.  With  these 
are  careful  instructors  in  the  simpler  handicrafts  of 

i8i 


Chunda 

carpentering,  shocmaking,  tailoring,  turning,  paint- 
ing, wood  carving  and  furniture  making,  and  ma- 
chinist's work  in  blacksmithing  and  wagon  making 
and  harness  work,  with  varieties  of  vegetable  gar- 
dening, fruit  and  flower  culture,  and  farming  and 
stock  raising.  The  instructions  for  girls  are  of 
more  domestic  kinds,  such  as  housekeeping,  cooking, 
sewing,  dairy  work,  weaving,  spinning  and  some 
higher  cultivation  of  their  industrial  tastes,  in  music 
and  other  arts. 

"Thus  a  practical  education  for  peoples  of  low 
culture  or  barbarism  was  in  less  direct  approach  to 
the  mental  faculties  than  in  ordinary  conditions  of 
civilization.  The  fingers,  the  hands,  the  muscles  of 
the  body  generally  should  first  be  educated  and  the 
inventive  powers  called  forth,  before  the  faculties 
which  encourage  physical  indolence  were  aroused 
by  wasting  most  of  the  school  hours  in  teaching 
reading,  spelling  and  writing  of  English,  arithmetic 
and  the  keeping  of  accounts,  which  are  best  taken 
up  as  a  recreation  or  as  the  necessity  of  their  manual 
occupations  required.  Their  moral  and  religious 
training  ought  to  be  in  the  simplest  principles  of 
virtue  and  piety,  and  taught  by  practical  example 
and  observation  of  their  needs  in  the  higher  life  into 
which  they  are  daily  being  introduced  by  the  occu- 
pations and  associations  with  one  another." 

Having  rapidly  presented  these  ideas  in  a  few 
direct  and  simple  words,  Redford  said : 

"Gentlemen,  I  have  come  to  ask  you  today  to  in- 
sert in  the  bill  for  Indian  appropriations  fifty  thou- 

182 


A  Broken  Pledge 

sand  dollars  for  the  establishing  and  erection  and 
furnishing  of  buildings  of  an  industrial  school  at 
Chin-a-li.  I  am  convinced  that  it  will  do  more  to 
raise  that  tribe  of  seventeen  thousand  or  eighteen 
thousand  savages  from  barbarism  than  ten  times  the 
amount  which  has  been  expended  in  other  ways. 

"And,  gentlemen,  I  have  brought  with  me  by  per- 
mission of  your  honored  chairman,  to  urge  this 
request,  one  whose  arguments  may  justly  affect  you 
more  than  my  own.  He  is  a  full-blooded  Navajo, 
the  son  of  one  of  the  Navajo  chiefs,  and  an  example 
in  himself  of  the  remarkable  capacity  of  his  tribe 
and  of  their  fitness  for  a  practical  manual  education 
as  well  as  for  the  development  of  the  higher  facul- 
ties. Allow  me  to  present  to  you  the  Commandant 
of  Hampton  College,  Virginia,  and  Superintendent 
of  the  Saxton  Industrial  Building  in  that  institution 
— Captain  Edward  Nelson." 

The  attention  of  the  committee  was  at  once 
aroused.  They  had  heard  in  several  ways  of  this 
remarkable  pupil  and  instructor,  whose  origin  had 
been  in  one  of  the  most  savage  tribes  in  this  country. 

Nelson's  manly  figure  and  bearing  impressed  them 
as  he  rose  to  speak.    He  said : 

"Gentlemen,  it  would  ill  become  me  to  attempt 
to  convince  you  or  persuade  you  by  any  of  the  arts 
of  the  advocate  to  make  this  proposed  appropriation. 
You  are  yourselves  eminent  as  pleaders  on  the  floors 
of  Congress  and  to  the  citizens  of  your  states.  I 
should  be  unequal  to  your  arguments  if  you  opposed 
me.    I  would  not  assume  to  discuss  a  policy  of  legis- 

183 


ClIUNDA 

lation  to  which  yon  are  opposed,  or  to  show  reasons 
for  opinions  I  may  hold  that  differ  from  yours, 
because  we  have  not  the  same  point  of  view.  You 
represent  the  dominant  white  people  of  this  great 
country.  I  come  from  an  aboriginal  race,  and  I 
represent  tribes  that  have  the  worst  record  of  savage 
warfare  in  this  land  for  the  last  twenty-five  or  thirty 
years. 

"I  wish  only  to  state  to  you,  gentlemen,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  present  adopted  policy  of  the  govern- 
ment, the  reasons  why  so  large  a  sum  as  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  should  be  appropriated  for  an  indus- 
trial school  for  the  Navajos. 

"I  am  a  Navajo.  Moved  by  the  words  of  Mr. 
Redford,  I  left  my  tribe  when  I  was  eighteen  years 
of  age  to  obtain  an  education  in  the  East.  As  the 
son  of  one  of  the  Navajo  chiefs,  I  w^as  permitted 
to  hear  what  was  said  in  the  frequent  consultations 
of  the  principal  men  of  the  tribe,  so  that  I  might  be 
ready  to  follow  my  father  as  a  chief. 

"There  were  two  parties  among  them,  one  whom 
you  would  call  conservatives  and  the  other  radicals. 
Most  of  the  tribe  belonged  to  the  conservatives, 
clinging  to  all  our  traditions  and  customs  and 
jealous  of  yielding  to  the  influences  of  the  white 
people.  To  this  prejudice  and  opposition  they  are 
constantly  incited  by  the  Shamans,  or  medicine 
men. 

"I  am  concerned  to  tell  you  to  what  they  most 
object,  for  in  this  is  my  plea  for  the  proposed  insti- 
tution at  Chin-a-li. 


A  Broken  Pledge 

"First:  To  the  change  from  the  hogan  to  the 
cabin  or  house.  This,  they  say,  would  make  the 
young  men  disinchned  to  roam  about  the  reserva- 
tion, which  naturally  diverts  a  mind  that  would 
seek  knowledge.  It  would  make  them  want  articles 
convenient  to  use  in  the  houses,  and  to  provide  these 
the  men  would  have  to  cultivate  more  ground  and 
to  raise  larger  crops  or  larger  flocks  of  sheep  and 
herds  of  horses  and  cattle.  It  would  change  their 
food,  for  with  the  fireplace  or  stove  comes  better- 
cooked  food  to  be  eaten  on  tables  with  knives  and 
forks,  plates  and  spoons  and  cups,  and  the  food 
thus  cooked  and  eaten  would  disgust  them  with  the 
coarse  food  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed  in 
the  hogan  life. 

"Second :  They  are  opposed  to  the  use  of  tools. 
Warriors  and  hunters,  whose  occupation  teaches 
them  how  to  use  only  the  bow  or  knife  or  rifle, 
would  soon  fall  into  discredit  before  the  men  who 
could  do  so  much  with  tools.  They  are  opposed 
to  farming  implements,  for  these  make  possible  the 
crops  which  wars  disturb  and  destroy,  so  that  they 
lead  to  peace  with  the  white  men  and  furnish  the 
industrious  farmer  with  food  and  clothing  that  the 
idle  must  either  beg  or  steal.  The  use  of  tools  in 
shops  and  in  farming  gives  a  desire  for  the  knowl- 
edge in  books  and  papers  where  their  uses  are  ex- 
plained. But  they  do  not  fear  so  much  the  use  of 
books  without  manual  or  industrial  education,  for 
it  is  sometimes  serviceable  to  the  tribe  in  their  trades 
and  intercourse  with  the  frontiersmen  to  know  how 

185 


CnUNDA 

to  read,  and  it  has  little  effect  on  the  idleness  of 
reservation  life. 

"Third :  They  are  bitterly  opposed  to  change  in 
their  religion,  which  would  rob  the  Shamans  of  their 
power  over  the  tribe  and  of  their  support.  It  would 
destroy  their  dances  and  amusements,  which  have 
more  or  less  of  a  religious  character,  and  promote 
the  power  of  the  Shamans.  The  radical  or  progres- 
sive part  of  the  tribe  secretly  despise  Shamanism, 
and  see  the  benefits  to  themselves  and  their  children 
from  living  like  the  white  people.  They  feel  as  the 
chief  of  another  tribe  once  said  here  in  Washington  : 
*We  have  nowhere  on  earth  to  go,  and  the  Indians 
all  realize  it  at  last.  Our  hope  is  to  learn  the  secrets 
of  greatness  and  success  from  the  white  man,  and 
gradually  to  get  the  power  which  he  has  of  getting 
great  things  out  of  the  soil.' 

"I  need  not  explain  to  you,  gentlemen,  the  advan- 
tages of  an  industrial  school.  They  are  now  ac- 
cepted by  the  Americans  as  of  the  largest  value  in 
the  education  of  a  nation  like  yours,  whose  resources 
of  earth  and  soil  are  almost  unlimited.  The  indus- 
trial training  of  the  Indian  tribes  is  the  first  step  to 
their  civilization  and  to  becoming  American  citizens. 

"The  facilities  of  location  for  the  proposed  school 
for  the  Navajos  are  the  most  advantageous  in  the 
reservation.  Chin-a-li  is  the  center  of  the  country 
where  most  of  the  Navajos  roam.  They  frequently 
come  to  the  Canon  de  Chelly.  From  this  canon 
flows  an  unfailing  stream.  Its  numerous  rincons 
are  fertile  places  that  for  centuries  have  been  culti- 

i86 


A  Broken  Pledge 

vated.  With  massive  and  high  walls  on  three 
sides,  they  need  only  a  fourth  wall  of  masonry  to  be 
built  across  their  openings  to  become  a  series  of 
inexhaustible  reservoirs  for  irrigation  and  me- 
chanical purposes.  Below  Chin-a-li  is  an  extended 
plain  of  fertile  land  upon  which  much  corn  is  now 
raised  that  can  be  made  to  support  a  large  popula- 
tion by  such  irrigation  and  give  opportunity  for 
training  the  pupils  in  good  methods  of  cultivating 
their  land.  It  can  be  divided  into  farms  assigned  to 
them  by  the  recent  severalty  law  and  become  their 
permanent  habitation. 

"In  the  mountains  near  by  are  forests  of  pine  and 
of  oak  and  mineral  wealth  of  iron,  zinc,  lead,  silver 
and  gold.  This  has  been  jealously  guarded  and  con- 
cealed from  white  men.  The  minerals  used  in  me- 
chanical arts  are  nearly  all  found  somewhere  in  the 
reservation.  Cotton  can  be  raised  there,  and  semi- 
tropical  fruits  produced  from  the  soil  of  the  valleys. 
'Trom  the  simpler  arts  my  people  can  be  led  up  to 
a  higher  state  of  culture,  and  not  only  their  own 
wants  supplied,  but,  by  the  railroad  already  built  on 
the  boundaries  of  their  reservation,  commerce  with 
other  parts  of  the  Southwest  can  be  established. 

"The  capacity  of  my  people  for  industrial  pursuits 
is  proved  by  those  few  which  they  have  with  rude 
contrivances  undertaken.  There  are  silversmiths, 
blacksmiths  and  weavers  among  them  already. 
They  naturally  incline  to  be  herders  and  farmers. 
They  are  content  only  with  having  the  best  weapons 
for  war,  and  in  all  parts  of  the  reservation  have 

187 


Chunda 

Winchester  rifles.  I  know  that  the  three  thousand 
warriors  of  the  tribe  have  arms  and  ammunition 
stored  for  use  in  case  of  war,  in  places  carefully  hid 
from  the  knowledge  of  the  white  men. 

"If  taught  in  the  arts  of  peace,  they  will  become 
an  element  for  developing  Arizona  and  New  Mexico 
instead  of  a  hindrance  to  this,  as  the  Apache  tribes 
have  been  hitherto,  provoked  to  war  against  Ameri- 
cans by  the  cruelties  and  encroachments  of  white 
settlers  and  ranchmen. 

"Gentlemen,  I  could  urge  the  considerations  of 
self-interest  and  the  obligations  of  the  United  States 
government  to  give  just  and  humane  treatment  to 
their  Indian  wards  and  to  a  people  like  mine,  now 
cursed  by  ignorance,  superstition  and  barbarism; 
but  these  thoughts  belong  rather  to  your  own  en- 
lightened minds." 

When  Captain  Nelson  sat  down  he  was  requested 
to  put  his  remarks  in  writing  for  the  further  deliber- 
ation of  the  committee. 

The  Indian  Appropriation  Bill  when  passed  by 
the  House  of  Representatives  included  these  items : 

For  the  establishment  and  erection  of  buildings 
and  equipment  of  an  industrial  school  at 
Chin-a-li  in  the  Navajo  reservation $50,000 

For  the  support  of  100  pt:pils  in  the  institution 

for  one  (r)  year 16,000 

For  the  salaries  of  a  superintendent  and  five 

industrial  teachers 9,000 

$75,000 
188 


A  Broken  Pledge 

It  was  Friday  morning  of  the  last  week  in  Feb- 
ruary when  Redford  arrived  in  Washington,  and, 
taking  np  the  daily  paper  at  the  breakfast  table 
in  his  hotel,  saw  the  report  of  the  Senate  Com- 
mittee on  Indian  Appropriations,  omitting  the  Chin- 
a-li  Industrial  School  and  inserting  another  to  be 
founded  at  Toltec  Canon,  Colorado,  with  an  appro- 
priation of  $25,000.  The  bill,  as  reported  by  the 
committee,  was  to  be  brought  up  for  a  vote  immedi- 
ately. 

Redford  hastened  to  the  Capitol.  He  found  in 
the  corridor  the  chairman  of  the  Senate  committee, 
and  asked  the  reason  of  the  substitution. 

"It  has  been  done  at  the  request  of  the  Secretary 
of  the  Interior,"  he  replied. 

"Is  there  no  way  in  which  the  Chin-a-li  School 
can  be  restored  ?"  asked  Redford. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  Senator  with  an  incredu- 
lous smile,  "whether  the  Senate  will  reverse  the 
final  report  of  their  committee.     It  is  not  usual." 

"Dear  sir,"  said  Redford  earnestly,  "will  you, 
who  have  known  so  well  the  needs  of  this  tribe  and 
been  a  consistent  friend  of  Indian  education  so  long, 
now  withhold  your  opposition  if  the  matter  comes 
up  for  discussion?" 

"I  must  stand  by  my  own  report,  Mr.  Redford.  I 
should  be  glad,  however,  to  see  your  project 
adopted,  but  it  is  hardly  possible." 

Redford's  heart  quailed  for  a  moment.  His  ad- 
versaries were  indeed  strong,  and  it  seemed  improb- 
able that  he  could  get  the  action  of  the  committee 

189 


Chun£)A 

reversed.  But  he  had  not  faced  the  foes  of  humanity 
and  rehgion  for  so  many  years  in  vain.  This  was 
the  fight  of  faith,  and  he  would  at  least  use  his 
weapons  to  the  last.  He  hurried  to  the  room  of  the 
temporary  President  of  the  Senate,  with  whom  he 
was  acquainted,  and  happily  found  him  as  he  was 
leaving  it  to  enter  the  Senate  Chamber. 

"Will  you  kindly  give  me  five  minutes  for  counsel 
in  a  matter  to  be  acted  upon  today  in  the  Senate?" 

"Certainly,  my  dear  sir.  Come  into  my  room," 
and  he  opened  the  door. 

The  case  was  stated  by  Redford  with  an  intensity 
that  needed  but  few  words. 

"You  can  only  have  that  appropriation  reinstated 
by  a  special  motion  of  the  Senate,  and  by  a  special 
vote.  It  is  not  probable  that  you  will  succeed," 
said  the  official  of  the  Senate. 

"Can  you  not  give  me  your  advocacy  of  it  in  a 
few  words,  Senator,"  said  Redford,  the  more  bold 
because  of  the  discouraging  reply  of  counsel  that 
had  behind  it  the  experience  of  the  longest  service 
of  all  the  Senators. 

"That  will  be  impossible,  gladly  as  I  would  aid 
you.  But  your  part  of  the  bill  will  not  be  reached 
until  Monday.  You  will  have  time  to  enlist  the  aid 
of  Senators  by  your  personal  influence,  if  you  care 
to  try  to  save  your  institution." 

"Two  days  and  a  half,"  exclaimed  Redford,  "to 
turn  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  to  my  sup- 
port !"  and  warmly  thanking  its  chief  officer  for  his 
counsel  he  withdrew. 

190 


A  Broken  Pledge 

Redforci  had  a  friend  of  earlier  days  in  the  Senate 
who  was  a  well-known  champion  of  education  and 
human  progress  in  Congress.  He  sent  his  card  to 
him  into  the  Senate  Chamber,  and  was,  after  some 
delay,  encouraged  to  see  his  old  friend  approaching 
him  in  the  lobby. 

"Will  you  second  the  motion  for  the  restoration 
of  the  Chin-a-li  appropriation,  Senator,  and  will  you 
support  it  by  a  speech  ?" 

"You  may  certainly  depend  upon  me,  Redford, 
for  that.     Who  will  make  the  motion?" 

"I  have  had  the  promise  of  a  Senator  from  the 
West  that  he  would  help  me.    I  will  go  to  him," 

"Get  him  to  pledge  his  prompt  action  when  it 
comes  up,  and  give  me  some  facts  written  down 
briefly  to  use,  when  I  speak,"  said  this  Senator  from 
the  East. 

In  an  interview  the  influential  Senator  from  the 
West  gave  his  promise,  but  he  was  not  an  old  friend. 
"Will  he  be  a  true  one?"  asked  Redford  to  himself 
as  he  turned  away. 

Then,  having  gone  to  another  member  of  the 
Senate  and  prayed  for  his  ready  support,  he  began 
to  enlist  votes,  one  by  one.  Night  and  day  he 
worked,  seeking  Senators  at  their  residences,  on 
their  way  to  the  Capitol,  in  the  Senate  lobbies,  at 
the  hotels  and  urging  willing  supporters  to  influence 
others  whose  votes  they  could  carry. 

Redford  had  made  a  list  of  every  name  with 
which  he  had  any  association,  or  for  whose  state 
he  had  rendered  any  service  in  his  past  life.     To 

191 


Chunda 

each  he  apphed  for  aid.  The  delegate  of  his  terri- 
tory in  the  House,  who  had  there  rendered  invaki- 
able  service  to  this  bill,  was  an  efficient  ally  in  mov- 
ing upon  Senators  of  his  own  party. 

By  Monday  noon,  when  the  session  of  the  Senate 
began,  every  name  on  Redford's  list  had  been  solic- 
ited for  a  vote,  and  everything  possible  had  been 
done.  Then  only  did  Redford  cease  his  efforts.  He 
was  sitting  in  the  gallery  of  the  Senate  when  para- 
graph 206  for  the  establishment  of  the  Chin-a-li 
Industrial  School  was  reached,  and  the  Senate 
amendment  that  it  be  stricken  out  was  read. 

"There  being  no  objection,"  said  the  temporary 
President  of  the  Senate,  "the  report  of  the  com- 
mittee is — " 

It  was  a  critical  moment.  The  Senator  who 
should  have  made  the  motion  to  reinsert  the  item  is 
silent.  His  word  is  broken.  The  honorable  Senator 
from  the  West  has  succumbed  to  the  influence  of  the 
Cabinet  officer. 

The  moment  of  recovery  is  passing.  A  friend 
indeed  is  the  friend  of  past  years.  He  rises  and  with 
a  loud  voice  makes  the  motion  that  the  item  remain 
in  the  bill.  It  is  seconded  by  another  Senator,  who 
had  also  been  prepared  for  someone's  failure. 

Then  followed  half  an  hour's  discussion.  The 
chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Indian  Appropria- 
tions gave  a  half-hearted  support  to  his  report,  and 
the  vote  was  called  for  viva  voce.  It  was  declared 
at  once  by  the  presiding  officer  as  lost. 

A  division  was  called  for  and  resulted  in  a  vote 
192 


A  Broken  Pledge 

of  forty-two  to  thirty-six  in  favor  of  the  Chin-a-li 
appropriation. 

*'We  have  it,"  said  the  Senator  who  had  so  val- 
iantly defended  Redford's  cause.  "There  is  no  need 
of  the  yeas  and  nays." 

Redford  bowed  his  head  in  speechless  thanks. 
To  his  faith  a  Higher  Power  had  brought  the  vic- 
tory, and  the  morning  of  redemption  was  now  dawn- 
ing on  that  distant  reservation  where  barbarism  had 
ever  held  undisputed  sway. 


193 


Ill 


195 


CHAPTER  XXII 

NIZENNI 

"When  will  Nizenni  come!  Oh,  See-sla!  I  have 
waited  long,  and  my  heart  within  me  is  like  a  stone." 

"Nizenni  will  make  it  light  and  send  away  the 
evil  spirit  that  crushes  you  down.  She  is  wonder- 
ful, Chay-way.  Her  laugh  is  like  summer.  It  is 
always  bright  and  warm  when  she  is  near." 

*'0h,  Wi-jee,  do  not  let  the  horrid  Shaman  touch 
me,  then.  Keep  him  away  from  me  till  Nizenni  sees 
me.    What  will  she  do  for  me?" 

"Chay-way,  Nizenni,  with  her  tiny  powders,  will 
make  your  poor  head  quiet  its  pain  and  give  you 
sleep." 

"But,  See-sla,  there  are  many  miles  to  travel  and 
the  dark  canon  to  pass.  When  did  she  start  from 
the  agency?" 

"Villarde  left  there  at  midday.  He  said  Nizenni's 
horse  was  saddled  and  waiting,  but  three  women 
were  keeping  her  with  stories  of  theiir  pain, 
and  one  came  with  her  boy's  arm  broken  just  as  she 
was  ready  to  start.  She  turned  two  sick  men  over 
to  her  assistant  in  the  office,  who  talks  with  the 
men  and  gives  them  medicine,  but  the  boy  she  would 
not  leave,  Villarde  said,  until  his  arm  was  made 
straight  and  bound  up  with  sticks  and  hung  in  a 
scarf  from  his  neck." 

"But,  See-sla,  will  Nizenni  come  all  alone?" 
197 


Chunda 

"No,  Chay-way,  two  Navajo  police  will  guard 
her  through  the  canon,  for  it  will  be  long  after  mid- 
night before  she  can  reach  this  cabin.  Now  try 
again  to  sleep,  Chay-way.  Wi-jee  w'ill  wake  you 
when  Nizenni  comes." 

With  a  moan  the  sick  woman  turned  upon  her  low 
couch  of  Navajo  blankets.  Her  face  was  flushed 
with  fever,  and  her  head  seemed  ready  to  split  with 
its  pain.  For  three  days  it  had  been  intolerable 
after  a  week  of  misery,  from  which  the  simple  reme- 
dies of  her  nurse  had  given  her  but  little  relief. 

Ere  long  Chay-way  sunk  into  a  stupor.  The 
watcher  stepped  softly  away,  and  stood  outside  of 
the  cabin  door  listening  keenly  to  the  sounds  of  the 
night.  Then  from  a  heap  of  pinon  boughs  broken 
into  fragments  she  took  an  armful,  and  carried  it  to 
a  ledge  thirty  or  forty  yards  away  from  the  cabin. 
From  this  she  looked  over  the  dark  valley  below. 
She  was  motionless  for  five  minutes ;  not  a  breath 
of  air  stirred,  but  she  was  peering  intently  into  the 
darkness.  Then  she  suddenly  turned  and  lighted 
the  wood.  Its  white  flame  darted  up  into  the  sky. 
A  distant  whoop  responded  to  the  signal,  and  Wi-jee 
returned  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction  to  the  cabin, 
threw  a  pitchy  stick  of  pinon  on  the  coals  in  the  fire- 
place, and  watched  the  face  of  the  sleeper. 

The  sick  woman  was  about  twenty-three  years 
old,  and  beneath  her  fevered  skin  one  could  trace 
lines  and  features  of  more  delicate  shape  than  is 
usual  in  the  Navajo  face.  Her  hair  was  long,  lying 
loosely  over  her  shoulders  and  partly  covering  her 


NiZENNI 

forehead ;  one  shapely  hand  rested  on  the  red  blanket 
with  fingers  tapering  from  the  small  palm  that 
joined  a  slight  wrist.  Her  form,  extended  on  the 
couch,  seemed  to  be  tall  and  slender,  unlike  the 
Navajo  women.  Her  lips  were  parted  in  her  sleep 
and  her  mind  was  wandering. 

"Father,"  she  said  in  clear  English,  "send  me  the 
friend  I  loved  so  well  at  the  school.  She  can  help 
me.  Quick,  father!  I  am  sinking  in  this  sand  and 
the  water  is  coming  over  me."  Then  in  her  delirium 
she  said  other  words  in  Navajo. 

Chay-way  was  the  daughter  of  an  officer  of  the 
army  who  had  left  her  with  the  Navajo  mother 
until  she  was  old  enough  to  be  taken  away  to 
school.  When  she  returned  to  the  reservation  from 
the  distant  school  at  San  Gabriel  her  mother  was 
dead  and  her  father  was  far  away,  stationed  at  a 
post  in  southern  Arizona,  and  yet  his  care  over 
Chay-way  continued  still,  for  he  had  been  strangely 
fond  of  his  child.  Through  the  agent  of  the  Navajos 
he  had  secured  a  kind  companion  and  protector  for 
her  in  a  Navajo  woman  whose  husband  had  assisted 
the  post  trader  at  Ganado  Mucho  ranch  till  he  was 
shot  in  an  Indian  brawl. 

Wi-jee  and  Chay-way  wrought  at  weaving  blank- 
ets for  their  support,  and  their  many  fanciful  pat- 
terns made  their  work  always  salable  and  the  ad- 
miration of  the  Navajos.  Their  cabin  was  built 
of  pine  slabs  with  bark  undisturbed,  obtained  at  a 
distant  steam  sawmill  erected  in  the  center  of  a 
mesa  thickly  grown  with  pines  from  forty  to  sixty 

199 


Chunda 

feet  high,  where  himber  had  been  sawed  for  the 
needs  of  a  railroad  that  had  been  recently  con- 
strncted  through  that  part  of  Arizona. 

The  house  had  been  designed  by  Chay-way's 
father,  and  built  by  his  orders  under  the  direction 
of  the  agent  at  Fort  Defiance.  It  was  of  simple  but 
tasteful  shape,  and  framed  with  timber  in  a  sub- 
stantial way  by  an  American  carpenter.  It  had 
four  rooms,  in  three  of  which  were  large  fireplaces. 
The  other  room  was  the  kitchen,  where  also  their 
table  was  spread,  and  was  furnished  with  a  small 
stove  and  a  few  utensils  for  cooking.  A  workroom 
adjoined  this  where  were  two  rude  looms  and  some 
other  implements  of  their  craft.  In  the  two  rooms 
on  the  other  side  of  the  house  were  two  small  beds 
and  a  couch  now  occupied  by  the  sick  girl,  who  was 
protected  from  the  cold  by  the  ample  fire  on  the 
hearth.  Their  front  room  was  not  commonly  used, 
but  its  floors  were  spread  with  rugs,  and  finer 
blankets  of  choice  weaving  and  design  hung  upon 
the  walls,  lighting  and  enriching  them  with  their 
colors,  in  the  midst  of  which  were  two  or  three 
spirited  engravings.  A  table  and  a  few  chairs  were 
its  only  furniture,  but  on  the  mantel  were  some  fine 
pieces  of  Moqui  ware  and  two  china  vases  and 
candlesticks  of  brass  which  were  the  daughter's 
most  prized  mementos  of  her  parents  and  had  be- 
longed to  her  mother.  In  all  the  rooms  the  rafters 
were  visible  above,  but  the  roof  was  specially  dis- 
tinguished from  all  the  other  cabins  on  the  reserva- 
tion  by  being  covered  with  shingles. 

200 


NiZENNI 

It  was  a  humble  home,  but  one  where  two  simple- 
hearted  women  toiled  and  lived  in  remembrance  of 
lessons  learned  in  youth  among  white  people. 
Chay-way  had  not  forgotten  how  to  read  the  small 
books  which  she  had  brought  from  San  Gabriel, 
but  she  had  evidently  cherished  more  than  all  others 
a  prayer  book  that  lay  upon  the  little  stand  by  her 
bed  with  her  father's  name  written  in  it. 

The  cabin  was  built  near  the  edge  of  the  mesa, 
and  commanded  a  wide  view  of  a  neighboring  canon 
and  plain  below  it.  Two  or  three  hogans  and  a 
smaller  cabin  were  not  more  than  a  hundred  rods 
from  it,  occupied  by  other  Navajo  families.  In  a 
ravine  between  them  was  a  small  stream  that  was 
fed  by  a  spring  at  the  foot  of  a  rocky  bluff  above  the 
hogans.  This  water,  a  rare  occurrence  on  these 
mesas,  had  determined  the  site  of  Chay-way's  cabin 
and  the  huts  not  yet  transformed  into  modern 
dwellings. 

Half  an  hour  had  passed  since  the  pihon  flame 
had  shed  its  gleams  down  the  rocky  sides  of  the 
mesa.  The  older  occupant  of  the  cabin  was  restless 
and  anxious.  She  went  out  again  in  the  darkness 
and  listened.  The  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  were  now 
distinct,  and  as  Wi-jee  waited  they  galloped  up  to 
the  door  of  the  cabin  and  stopped. 

A  woman  quickly  dismounted,  and  her  two 
guards  led  her  horse  away  to  the  ravine. 

Nizenni  entered  the  front  room,  led  by  Wi-jee, 
who  held  her  hand  in  mute  thankfulness  that  she 
had  come  at  her  urgent  call  these  weary  miles.    As 

201 


ClIUNDA 

she  came  into  the  light  of  the  fire  she  turned  and 
looked  admiringly  into  the  face  of  the  young  doctor, 
and  fervently  repeated  the  endearing  term  with 
which  Chay-way  had  been  addressing  her  ere  she 
sunk  into  her  stupor. 

"See-sla,  my  sister,  you  are  very  beautiful,  you 
are  very  good.  Everyone  has  said  this,  but  now  I 
know  it." 

Nizenni  threw  ofif  her  waterproof  and  stood  be- 
fore the  fire  for  a  few  moments  with  her  medicine 
case  in  her  hand.  A  face  expressive  of  kindly  spirit 
was  revealed  by  the  soft  white  light  of  the  pinon 
wood.  Her  dark  eye  gleamed  with  love  and  intelli- 
gence. There  was  dignity  in  the  brow  and  strength 
in  the  firm  chin  and  thin  lips;  grace  in  the  round 
cheeks ;  authority  and  strong  purpose  in  the  pose 
of  the  head  and  the  attitude  of  that  form.  She  was 
clothed  in  a  dark  gray-checked  dress  and  a  black 
sacque  which  fitted  closely  to  her  shoulders.  The 
skirt  of  her  dress  reached  to  her  ankles,  which,  with 
her  small  feet,  were  encased  in  brown  leggins  and 
shoes. 

Putting  her  medicine  case  on  the  table,  Nizenni 
turned  to  the  Navajo  woman  and  asked,  speaking 
in  Navajo: 

"How  is  Chay-way?" 

"She  is  full  of  fever." 

"When  was  she  taken  sick?" 

"Ten  days  ago,  Nizenni,  and  she  has  been  grow- 
ing worse  each  day." 

"Does  she  take  food  ?" 


NiZENNI 

"No,  only  water,  and  a  little  wet  ground  maize. 
She  is  in  great  pain  and  very  weak." 

"Take  me  to  her,"  and  Nizenni  followed  the 
woman  to  the  couch  of  the  patient  in  the  next 
room. 

With  practiced  eye  and  hand  she  examined  the 
sufferer  before  she  was  fully  awake. 

As  she  took  her  hand  to  draw  her  face  more  fully 
into  the  light  Nizenni  started. 

"Alas!"  she  said  softly,  "this  is  my  little  friend 
Maggie.  We  must  make  you  well  quickly,"  she 
said,  bending  over  her  and  stroking  the  hot  brow 
with  a  gentle  hand.  "Maggie,  don't  you  know 
me?" 

There  was  half  a  smile  on  the  sick  girl's  lips. 
Then  she  closed  her  eyes  and  wandered  in  her 
speech,  which  was  Navajo,  with  now  and  then  an 
English  phrase. 

The  doctor  prepared  some  remedies,  and  with  the 
aid  of  the  Navajo  woman  put  Chay-way  into  bed. 
Then  she  sat  down  to  the  table,  spread  with  a  white 
cloth  and  a  few  plain  dishes,  and  partook  of  the 
simple  fare  that  had  been  neatly  set  before  her.  It 
was  late  in  the  night,  and  the  doctor  turned  to 
Wi-jee  as  she  rose  from  the  table. 

"You  have  watched  long  and  faithfully,"  she 
said.  "Your  eyes  are  very  heavy,  and  you  must 
have  strength  for  the  days  that  still  must  bring 
you  greater  care.  Go  and  sleep  the  rest  of  this 
night  undisturbed,  and  leave  Chay-way  with  me. 
She  has  the  mountain  fever,  and  it  soon  will  turn,  to 

203 


Chunda 

be  relieved  or  much  worse.  I  will  do  all  that  is 
possible  for  her.    Trust  her  to  me,  Wi-jee." 

The  woman  looked  gratefully  into  the  face  of  the 
doctor  and  embraced  her.  Then  she  turned  away 
and  sank  upon  the  bed,  falling  into  a  deep  slumber 
from  which  she  did  not  wake  till  the  next  after- 
noon. 

The  youthful  vigor  of  the  agency  physician  had 
been  aroused  rather  than  exhausted  by  the  exhil- 
arating ride  over  the  mountain  plateau  and  through 
the  Caiion  de  Chelly.  She  was  again  in  her  native 
air,  and  among  scenes  which  were  the  more  exciting 
for  her  long  absence  at  the  schools  on  the  Atlantic 
shores. 

She  had  been  received  with  wonder  and  with  en- 
thusiasm by  the  progressive  party  among  the  Nava- 
jos,  and  with  ominous  chagrin  and  resentment  from 
those  who  resisted  the  tendencies  toward  civilization 
in  the  tribe.  Among  these  were  specially  noticeable 
the  Shamans,  who  shrewdly  perceived  that  this 
return  of  an  educated  Navajo  physician,  a  woman 
of  remarkable  presence  and  strength  of  character, 
was  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  their  already  wan- 
ing influence  over  their  superstitious  people. 

With  ardor  and  hope,  and  with  a  wonderful  tact 

which  was  aided  by  her  winning  beauty  of  face, 

quick   judgment,   and   agile  movements,   she   had 

begun  her  practice,  with  the  authority  of  her  office 

easily  assumed  by   her   and   unquestioned  by   her 

people. 

From  hogan  to  hogan  in  that  immense  reserva- 
204 


NiZENNI 

tion  went  the  news  of  her  arrival,  and  many  a 
squaw's  eye  kindled  with  hope  and  pride  at  the  some- 
times detracting  reports  of  the  men  who  brought  the 
information,  which  usually  was  given  with  hearty 
praise  when  carried  by  women. 

One  after  another  the  Navajo  women  found  a 
ready  errand  to  Fort  Defiance  agency,  riding  often 
fifty  or  a  hundred  miles  to  bring  their  own  ailments 
and  the  sufferings  of  their  children  to  the  kindly 
notice  of  "Nizenni,"  as  Dr.  Lawton  had  been  char- 
acteristically named  from  her  handsome  face  and 
figure.  The  child  name,  "Chunda,"  was  forgotten 
or  outgrown.  Hedipa's  daughter  was  known  to  her 
people  by  one  more  expressive  title  in  many  a  tale 
of  her  afterward,  when  they  told,  in  hogan  and 
cabin  and  by  camp  fires  in  mesa  parks  or  canons, 
how  Nizenni  wrought  her  wonderful  work  for  her 
people  and  suffered  for  it  in  her  beautiful  life.  Her 
name  was  then  spoken  with  reverence,  love  and 
tears,  as  was  that  patron  saint  Eulalia  by  the  peo- 
ple of  Spain,  whose  name  she  had  borne  in  her  later 
school  life  and  at  her  Christian  baptism. 

Nizenni  had  been  unremitting,  during  the  winter 
months  after  she  came  to  assume  her  duties,  in  her 
efforts  to  bind  to  herself  in  personal  devotion  the 
women  of  her  tribe.  Through  these  she  held  the 
favor  of  many  a  husband  who  saw  the  less  serious 
diseases  of  his  wife  or  children  quickly  dispelled, 
and  confidence  returning  to  those  who  had  despaired 
of  restoration  and  of  life  itself.  Her  male  assistant, 
Rodney  Winston,  was  a  judicious  appointment  by 

205 


Chunda 

the  government.  A  recent  graduate  from  the  Medi- 
cal School  at  Harvard  University,  he  was  in  true 
sympathy  with  her  plans,  admired  her  energy  and 
skill,  and  was  profoundly  impressed  w^th  her  in- 
genuous and  straightforward  character.  Assured 
that,  if  he  wished,  he  should  be  her  successor  in  the 
post  of  agency  physician  when  Nizenni's  main  pur- 
pose was  accomplished,  self-interest  as  well  as  the 
strict  commands  from  Washington  secured  his 
active  and  sincere  support  as  a  trusty  coworker  at 
Fort  Defiance  when  Nizenni  made  her  distant  pro- 
tracted visits  over  the  reservation.  These  rides  were 
helpful  as  well  as  necessary  to  her  influence,  for  the 
prevailing  fever  of  these  high  altitudes  was,  for 
some  unknown  cause,  of  late  years  increasingly  fatal. 
The  Shamans'  magic  had  been  powerless  to  check 
it,  and  the  ravages  of  the  disease  were  alarming  and 
discouraging  to  the  tribe.  They  believed  that  only 
some  special  deliverance  from  higher  powers  could 
save  them,  and  they  moved  from  plains  to  the 
wooded  plateaus  and  from  mesas  to  the  canons  in  a 
vain  effort  to  find  favor  from  the  spirits  of  the  air 
and  to  escape  the  disease.  The  human  heart, 
whether  in  savage  or  in  enlightened  conditions, 
humbled  by  such  afflictions,  looks  to  the  supernatural 
for  aid.  It  often  transfigures  what  is  unusual  into 
a  weird  or  divine  shape,  and  surrenders  to  it  pride 
and  the  opposition  of  custom  and  prejudice. 

So  the  strange  history  of  Nizenni  seemed,  to 
many  who  knew  a  part  of  it,  a  revelation  of  some 
divine  favor  and  scheme  for  their  betterment.    Her 

206 


NiZENNI 

career  and  the  appointment  by  the  Great  Father 
seemed  to  have  been  a  thought  of  the  Navajo  god- 
dess who  especially  championed  the  cause  of  women 
of  their  tribe.  "Why  should  she  not  have  been  thus 
kind  to  them?"  they  said.  "The  selfishness  of  the 
Shamans,  their  brutality  and  cruelty  and  their  sham- 
ming of  power  over  disease,  we  have  long  des- 
pised" ;  and  they  secretly  rejoiced  now  at  this  their 
rival's  skill  and  power  over  the  tribe. 

The  "House  of  Comfort"  that  Nizenni  in  these 
visits  did  not  fail  to  describe,  and  promised  should 
be  built  for  them,  was  a  new  sign  of  the  favor  of 
their  goddess.  It  would  be  a  refuge  and  a  resting 
place  for  their  enfeebled  bodies ;  it  would  give  them 
an  insight  into  that  higher,  better  living  of  white 
people  of  which  now  and  then  they  had  heard  tales 
or  caught  glimpses  on  long  rides  to  the  frontier 
towns. 

Nizenni  was  fast  making  her  way  among  her  peo- 
ple when  the  shadows  of  the  jealous  Shamans  and 
their  followers  began  to  flit  about  her  paths.  She 
knew  their  craft  and  their  power,  but  she  believed 
also  that  they  would  hardly  resort  to  violence  when 
the  power  of  the  Great  Father  at  Washington  was 
manifestly  sustaining  her.  The  numbers  of  the 
Indian  police  had  been  increased  at  the  agency.  The 
frequent  presence  of  mounted  soldiers  from  Fort 
Wingate,  in  detachments  of  two  or  three  or  even 
single  riders  passing  in  widely  separated  places 
through  the  reservation  on  some  service  of  engineer- 
ing or  scouting,  indicated  to  the  wary  hostiles  a 

207 


Chunda 

watchful  regard  for  the  touches  of  civilization  which 
were  extending-  through  their  country,  in  the  build- 
ing of  cabins,  the  cultivation  of  fields,  the  hewing 
of  timbers  and  the  sawing  of  lumber  by  the  steam 
mills  in  different  localities.  So  the  conservatives 
and  the  hostiles  cowered  in  their  hogans  or  flitted 
at  night  from  place  to  place  where  they  might  con- 
sult with  one  another.  There  were  as  yet  no  start- 
ling signs  of  hostility. 

Nizenni  was  fearless,  and  often  by  her  exposures 
of  herself  in  solitary  rides  to  hidden  perils  won  re- 
spect. Her  trust  in  higher  powers  of  protection  was 
a  sign  to  the  savage  of  their  favor.  By  a  few 
words  to  the  sick,  or  a  kindly  act  of  healing  when 
no  Shaman  or  spy  was  near  to  observe  its  effect,  she 
bound  many  a  heart  to  her  cause. 

So  we  find  her  tonight,  in  the  midst  of  a  little 
cluster  of  hogans  and  cabins,  watching  on  this  mesa 
with  a  friend  of  her  childhood.  Tomorrow  Nizenni 
will  find  other  patients  to  whom  in  this  little  com- 
munity her  services  will  be  invaluable. 

The  thoughts  of  her  distant  friends  in  the  far 
East  came  to  her  as  she  looked  on  the  live  embers 
on  the  hearth.  The  faithful  and  loving  remem- 
brance of  one  dearer  now  than  all  the  rest,  from 
whom  she  had  received  that  morning  an  exultant 
letter  upon  the  auspicious  action  of  Congress  in  his 
own  enterprises  for  the  redemption  of  the  Navajos, 
filled  her  heart  with  gratitude.  This  was  no  hard 
service,  no  hardship  to  her  eager  spirit.  Its  powers 
were  in  full  exercise,  its  aims  reaching  toward  an 

208 


NiZENNI 

object  that  had  filled  her  waking  and  sleeping  hours 
for  many  months  and  years.  The  cheerful  glow 
of  the  piiion  coals  was  reflected  in  her  animated  face, 
and  her  eyes,  glistening  in  the  reddish  glare  of  the 
fire,  were  brilliant  with  an  inner  light.  She  thought 
of  the  grave  in  the  lonely  cafion  which  she  had 
passed  that  day,  where  there  seemed  to  have  met 
her  the  loved  spirit  of  her  mother.  She  was  taking 
up  the  work  she  remembered  Hedipa  so  often  did  as 
she  nursed  the  sick,  but  how  greatly  changed  were 
her  surroundings!  How  differently  she  herself, 
with  enlightened  mind  and  ready  skill,  put  forth  the 
hand  to  heal  and  uttered  words  to  soothe  the  weary ! 
Ah !  but  the  humbler  ministering  was  yet  as  tender 
as  hers  could  ever  be.  She  thanked  God  for  such  a 
heritage,  for  a  treasured  memory,  for  a  long-sought 
opportunity. 


209 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   DAUGHTER   OF    HEDIPA 

The  sick  girl  was  sleeping  quietly  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  doctor's  powders,  and  did  not  need  close 
attendance.  Nizenni,  therefore,  drew  from  the 
pouch  of  her  saddle,  which  had  been  brought  into 
the  cabin,  a  roll  of  paper.  Unfolding  it  upon  the 
little  stand,  she  lighted  a  candle  and  studied  the 
plans  and  specifications  of  the  hospital,  which  she 
had  received  the  day  before  from  the  architect,  and 
the  contract  for  its  erection,  which  was  signed  by  a 
responsible  builder  in  Saint  Louis.  A  letter  within 
this  contract  conveyed  the  information  that  an  out- 
fit of  mechanics,  teams,  derricks  and  other  tools, 
with  tents  and  provisions,  would  start  for  the  reser- 
vation the  next  week  to  quarry  and  dress  the  sand- 
stone of  which  the  hospital  was  to  be  built.  The 
heavier  lumber  would  be  cut  at  the  steam  mill  on 
the  reservation ;  and  the  rest,  ready  fitted  and  fin- 
ished at  Saint  Louis,  would  be  forwarded  by  rail- 
road, with  workmen  to  complete  the  building  when 
they  should  be  needed. 

Nizenni  thoughtfully  scanned  the  plans,  and 
from  time  to  time  read  a  page  or  two  in  the  specifi- 
cations. Her  eyes  grew  brighter  as  the  hours  of  the 
night  thus  quickly  passed  on.  Her  imagination  was 
filled  with  the  scenes  which  rose  before  her.     The 

210 


The  Daughter  of  Hedipa 

enthusiasm  of  her  nature  was  aroused,  and  her 
fancy  drew  pictures  of  sufferers  in  the  wards,  of 
convalescents  on  the  portals,  of  patient  Navajo  chil- 
dren looking  wistfully  to  her  for  relief  from  their 
pains,  as  she  saw  herself  passing  through  the  chil- 
dren's ward  and  the  workroom  where  girls  and 
women  would  be  taught  how  to  provide  for  the 
helpless,  and  in  the  kitchen  where  they  would  learn 
how  to  prepare  proper  nourishment  for  the  different 
stages  of  sickness  or  recovery  of  invalids. 

Nizenni  tired  at  last  of  thinking,  and  with  the 
collect  upon  her  lips,  "Direct  us,  O  Lord,  in  all  our 
doings,  with  thy  most  gracious  favor,  and  further 
us  with  thy  continual  help,"  she  rested  her  head 
upon  the  little  table  and  slept.  But  her  repose  was 
short,  for  startled  by  a  knock  on  the  cabin  door  she 
rose  and  looked  out  of  the  window  nearest  to  her. 
The  gray  twilight  of  an  April  morning  made  the 
unfamiliar  objects  appear  more  strange  and  filled 
her  with  a  momentary  dread.  Then  she  went  softly 
to  the  door  and  listened.  There  was  someone  out- 
side walking  up  and  down  the  short  path  which  led 
to  the  cabin.  Nizenni  opened  the  door  and  recog- 
nized one  of  the  police  guard,  who  beckoned  to  her 
to  come  outside  and  then  told  her  that  in  the  ravine 
nearby  were  two  very  sick  children  whose  mothers 
implored  her  to  come  and  save  them  from  the  dread- 
ful fever  which  had  seized  them  two  days  before. 

Turning  back  to  her  patient,  Nizenni  saw  her  still 
sleeping  heavily,  and  putting  on  a  wrap  she  picked 
up  her  medicine  case  and  softly  leaving  the  house 


Chunda 

walked  up  the  ravine.  Two  women,  watching:  for 
her  approach,  came  forward  joyfully,  and  taking 
her  by  the  hand  led  her  quickly  to  the  nearest  of  the 
two  hogans. 

How  different  the  surroundings  of  these  poor 
children  were  from  those  of  the  cabin!  The  chill 
of  the  morning  pervaded  the  rude  structure  of  mud 
and  saplings  slanting  together  at  the  top.  A  fire 
was  burning  near  the  center,  and  its  smoke  dimmed 
the  fitful  light  of  the  brands.  On  a  pile  of  piiion 
twigs,  resting  on  coarser  branches  beneath  and  cov- 
ered with  blankets,  was  a  girl  of  eleven  or  twelve 
years,  her  cheeks  flushed  and  her  head  tossing  from 
one  side  to  the  other  on  a  roll  of  softer  blankets  as 
she  moaned  with  pain. 

Nizenni  knelt  down  and  listened  to  her  breathing. 
It  betrayed  no  sign  of  danger  in  the  lungs,  and 
slightly  touching  the  patient's  wrist  she  stroked  the 
hot  brow  with  her  left  hand.  Then  she  looked  in- 
tently for  a  few  moments  on  the  round  face  of  the 
child  and  turned  with  a  bright  smile  to  the  mother, 
who  stood  anxiously  watching  her  countenance. 
Motioning  for  her  case,  she  took  from  it  a  few  tab- 
lets, and  giving  one  to  the  child  handed  ten  or 
twelve  more  to  the  mother,  with  clearly  spoken 
directions  in  the  Navajo  tongue  as  to  their  use. 

Then  the  other  squaw  led  her  hastily  to  her  own 
hogan.  On  a  similar  rude  couch  was  lying  a  boy 
of  fourteen.  His  eyes  w^re  no  longer  bright,  and 
his  cheeks  were  sunken  with  a  pale  and  yellowish 
cast,  but  he  looked  with  w^onder  at  the  face  bending 

212 


The  Daughter  of  Hedipa 

over  him,  while  Nizenni  asked  more  questions  and 
prescribed  for  him.  But  when  she  brought  hght 
and  hope  into  the  mother's  eyes  by  her  soothing 
words  the  squaw  gratefully  put  her  arm  on  the  doc- 
tor's shoulder,  who  looked  sadly  up  to  the  rude  sticks 
meeting  above  the  little  sufferer's  head,  and  shivered 
as  she  turned  away  toward  Maggie's  cabin. 

There  she  soon  entered  and,  with  the  aid  of  a 
young  girl  who  had  followed,  made  herself  a  cup 
of  coffee  and  arranged  a  breakfast  from  the  contents 
of  the  saddlebag  which  contained  her  provisions. 

Maggie  awoke  meanwhile  with  the  same  high 
fever  and  wandering  speech  as  the  night  before,  but 
she  was  quieted  again  after  taking  a  slight  nourish- 
ment prepared  now  by  Nizenni  herself.  Then,  tell- 
ing the  Indian  girl  to  watch  by  her,  keep  the  fire 
burning,  and  send  a  boy  to  call  her  if  she  was 
needed,  Nizenni  walked  far  down  the  ravine,  finding 
two  or  three  more  suffering  from  malarial  fevers 
and  one  hopeless  patient  in  the  last  stage  of  con- 
sumption. 


213 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

SHADOWS    IN    A    CLEAR    SKY 

The  sun  of  a  May  morning  was  shining  from  the 
cloudless  strip  of  sky  that  stretched  like  a  broad 
blue  ribbon  over  the  deep  cleft  of  the  Cafion  de 
Chelly,  revealing  a  score  of  masons  and  hodmen 
who  were  completing  the  jfirm  stone  walls  of  the 
"House  of  Comfort,"  while  the  carpenters  were  pre- 
paring to  erect  the  roof  rafters  and  covering  the 
floor  beams  with  planks.  The  red  and  yellow  sand- 
stone blocks,  with  lines  of  black  marble  along  the 
window  copings,  gave  a  variety  of  color  attractive 
to  the  eye  of  the  uncultured  Navajo,  which  is  con- 
tented only  with  the  strongest  hues  in  nature  repro- 
duced in  his  dress,  utensils,  arms  and  ornaments. 
These  stone  blocks  had  been  quarried  in  a  neighbor- 
ing rincon,  whence,  having  been  already  hammered 
and  shaped  for  their  places,  they  had  been  dragged 
to  the  site  of  the  hospital  by  Navajo  horses  which 
had  thus  taken  their  first  training  in  drawing  the 
burdens  which  civilization  lays  upon  man  and  beast. 

The  work  thus  far  had  been  watched  from  the 
crevices  and  brink  of  the  cafion  by  groups  of  Navajo 
women  drawn  by  curiosity  or  sympathy,  and  by  not 
a  few  men  who,  having  refused  to  put  their  hands 
to  the  work,  had  surveyed  the  progress  of  the  build- 
ing sitting  on  their  horses  day  after  day  and  riding 

214 


Shadows  in  a  Clear  Sky 

back  to  their  hogans  at  night  to  discuss  the  strange 
devices  and  mechanical  appHances  of  modern  build- 
ing. 

The  manufactured  lumber  in  piles  of  doors,  win- 
dow blinds,  moldings,  boxes  of  hardware  and  of 
hospital  furniture  and  appointments,  and  other 
material  for  the  furnishing  of  this  building  and  its 
preparation  for  immediate  use,  were  to  be  seen  near 
the  walls,  protected  only  by  large  canvas  covers 
which  were  sufficient  for  the  dry  season  of  this 
country. 

As  the  builders  rapidly  advanced  the  framework 
of  the  roof,  and  made  fast  the  flooring  and  erected 
the  partitions,  the  masons  withdrew  to  work  upon 
the  foundations  already  laid  of  a  new  structure  at 
the  entrance  of  the  cafion  of  much  greater  extent 
and  plainer  design  and  material.  Here  the  govern- 
ment employees  had  collected  larger  supplies  of 
hewn  stone,  a  gray  silicious  sandstone  which  had 
been  quarried  from  cliffs  composed  of  a  different 
formation  about  two  miles  distant  on  the  trail  to 
Ganado  Mucho  ranch  as  it  descends  from  the  mesa 
to  the  lower  level  of  the  Chelly  valley. 

The  force  of  mechanics  and  laborers,  now  in- 
creased to  nearly  fifty,  made  speedy  work  in  the 
erection  of  the  Chin-a-li  Industrial  School  for  Boys, 
A  score  of  stalwart  Navajos  were  employed  in  the 
rough  work  of  loading  and  hauling  stone  and  mix- 
ing and  carrying  mortar. 

In  three  months  the  walls  were  ready  for  the  plain 
work    in   lumber   and   in   finishing   the   buildings. 

215 


Chunda 

These  consisted  of  the  main  structure,  two  and  a 
half  stories  high,  projecting  in  front  and  rear  be- 
yond the  two  wings  of  less  height,  of  which  the 
lower  floors  were  arranged  for  the  various  occu- 
pations to  be  taught  and  the  upper  rooms  appro- 
priated to  sleeping  rooms.  The  main  building  was 
ordered  for  the  offices  and  dining  rooms,  with  cook- 
ing arrangements  in  an  extension  conveniently  con- 
nected with  the  refectories. 

The  building  operations  were  an  exciting  object 
lesson  to  the  wondering  Navajos,  arousing  in  many 
of  them  hope  of  a  new  and  strange  future  for  their 
children ;  but  there  were  dark,  repelling  faces  ming- 
ling with  the  spectators,  watching  with  evil  eyes 
every  sign  of  civilized  life  thus  multiplying  before 
them. 

Dr.  Lawton  became  a  frequent  visitor  at  the 
hospital  when  its  design  began  to  unfold  rapidly 
under  the  labors  of  the  carpenters  putting  together 
the  prepared  materials.  Her  furniture  and  hospital 
appointments  and  stores  were  now  waiting  for  the 
contractor  to  leave  the  building  in  her  hands  for 
occupancy,  which  he  was  ready  to  do  at  the  time 
specified  in  his  contract. 

On  an  afternoon  in  June,  Eulalia  arrived  at  Chin- 
a-li  in  response  to  the  notice  for  which  she  had 
been  patiently  waiting.  The  covered  mountain 
wagon  in  which  she  rode  was  followed  by  five  large 
freight  wagons  loaded  with  the  stores  and  equip- 
ment of  the  Hedipa  Hospital.  As  she  drove  by  the 
trading  post  store  a  group  of  women  hailed  her 

216 


Shadows  in  a  Clear  Sky 

with  admiring  smiles,  calling  her  by  the  names  in 
which  she  had  become  endeared  to  them.  A  few 
voices  of  the  older  ones  addressed  her  by  the  child 
name,  which  they  still  cherished,  "Chunda!" 
"Chiinda!"  but  there  was  a  name  now  dearer  to 
them,  which  expressed  both  their  pride  and  affec- 
tion. "Nizenni !"  "Nizenni !"  was  often  upon  their 
lips  as  she  passed  them,  her  strong  but  beautiful 
face  lighted  up  with  the  consciousness  of  a  purpose 
well-nigh  attained  and  an  earnest  expectation  of 
accomplishing  for  her  people  a  merciful  relief  from 
their  worst  sufferings. 

But  there  was  mingled  with  that  look  of  triumph 
irradiating  her  countenance  a  womanly  pride  and 
tenderness,  for  at  her  side  was  Captain  Nelson,  who, 
in  the  midst  of  her  arrangements  for  departure  to 
the  Canon  de  Chelly,  had  arrived  at  Fort  Defiance 
holding  a  commission  from  the  Interior  Department 
at  Washington  which  gave  him  ample  power  as 
superintendent  of  construction  and  Principal  of  the 
Chin-a-li  Industrial  School. 

The  cooperation  of  their  individual  enterprises 
seemed  to  be  assured  and  their  devotion  rewarded 
in  the  approaching  culmination  of  their  tenderest 
hope.  In  that  long  drive  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
miles  from  the  agency  they  had  given  expression 
to  unnumbered  wishes  and  plans  which  had  been 
waiting  for  these  hours  of  loving  counsel  and  trust 
in  each  other. 

As  Captain  Nelson  had  looked  through  his  field 
glass  from  the  bluffs  two  miles  away  which  skirted 

217 


ClIUNDA 

the  plain  of  Chin-a-li,  and  had  descried  the  walls 
of  the  Industrial  School  covered  with  busy  work- 
men, he  had  uttered  the  long-restrained  joy  of  his 
soul. 

"Eulalia,  yonder  are  my  castle  walls!"  he  cried. 
"The  dream  of  these  long  years  comes  true.  There 
my  vision  takes  definite  shape  and  my  thoughts  will 
yet  be  fulfilled  when  this  plain  shall  be  green  with 
fields  of  maize  and  dotted  with  farmhouses  and 
villages.  Chin-a-li  yonder  shall  be  the  center  of 
workshops  and  mills,  where  my  people  shall  make 
whatever  they  shall  need  for  bright  and  happy 
homes  clustering  around  them." 

"Your  prophecy  shall  be  fulfilled,  Edward,"  said 
the  happy  girl  at  his  side.  "It  is  your  mission  to 
save.  It  is  mine  to  comfort  and  heal.  When  you 
have  surveyed  your  rising  walls,  come  up  this  canon 
a  little  farther  and  see  mine  completed." 

"Do  not  think,  Eulalia,  that  I  must  wait  to  in- 
spect my  castle.  It  is  substantial  enough  already  to 
bide  my  greater  joy  of  sharing  your  delight  in 
entering  your  own.  We  will  go  on  together  and 
arrange  Hedipa  Hospital  for  its  patients  before  I 
put  a  foot  upon  my  own  domain." 

So  they  drove  swiftly  by  the  school  and  entered 
the  canon. 

The  direct  rays  of  the  sun  quickly  leave  the  canon, 
but  its  reflected  light  from  the  eastern  wall,  where 
they  now  lingered  gave  a  purpling  glimmer  to  the 
red-tiled  roof  of  the  Hedipa  Hospital,  which  rose  in 
strong  outline  from  its  plateau  in  the  midst  of  the 

218 


Shadows  in  a  Clear  Sky 

widened  gorge  before  the  eyes  of  the  eager  travelers 
as  they  turned  a  point  from  which  the  bayou  of  the 
canon  could  be  seen.  The  doors  and  windows  were 
open  to  dry  the  last  finish  on  the  walls  and  the  oiled 
woodwork.  Half  a  dozen  Navajo  women  were 
standing  on  the  front  steps  and  looking  eagerly 
down  the  valley,  for  they  had  been  joyfully  listen- 
ing to  the  rattling  echoes  of  the  wheels  as  the  lum- 
bering freight  wagons  approached  over  the  stony 
trails.  As  they  came  into  sight  the  women  jumped 
upon  their  ponies  and  trotted  forward  to  greet  with 
grateful  and  reverent  glances  Nizenni,  and  as  they 
scanned  the  features  of  her  companion  their  eyes 
glistened  with  admiration. 

The  contractor  came  forward  as  the  party  dis- 
mounted, and  courteously  presented  to  Eulalia  the 
keys  of  the  hospital.  They  entered  the  office,  while 
Nelson  remained  behind  to  survey  the  exterior  of 
the  building.  The  formalities  w-ere  soon  finished, 
and  Eulalia  promptly  called  to  her  aid  the  willing 
hands  of  men  and  women  to  unpack  the  boxes  and 
furniture  already  removed  from  the  wagons;  and 
before  the  twilight  had  settled  upon  the  scene  rooms 
were  provided  for  herself  and  the  two  nurses  who 
had  accompanied  her  in  the  freight  wagon.  The 
office  was  assigned  to  Captain  Nelson,  and  the  rest 
of  the  company  camped  upon  the  sandy  plateau. 

The  week  that  followed  brought  intense  satisfac- 
tion to  Eulalia,  though  it  tested  her  singularly 
strong  physical  and  nervous  energies.  Nelson  aided 
her   for  a  couple  of   days,   and  then   returned   to 

219 


Chunda 

Chin-a-li,  taking  up  quarters  at  the  trading  post. 
With  woman's  tact  and  skilled  hand,  assisted  by  her 
two  trained  nurses,  Eulalia  completed  the  arrange- 
ments of  the  wards  and  offices,  the  surgical  and 
dietary  departments.  When  Nelson  returned  he 
inspected  with  lavish  sympathy  and  praise  the  fore- 
thought and  skill  manifest  in  the  equipments  and 
arrangements  of  the  wards. 

"Eulalia,  dear,"  he  said,  as  they  turned  to  the 
office  and  sat  down,  "this  hour  crowns  your  noble 
purpose  with  a  glory  that  makes  me  revere  you.  My 
pride  in  possessing  your  love  is  obliterated  by  the 
thought  of  my  unworthiness,  while  I  rejoice  inex- 
pressibly in  the  favor  you  so  tenderly  bestowed." 

"Edward,"  she  replied,  "there  has  hardly  been 
a  thought  wdiich  I  have  put  into  this  building  that 
has  not  been  associated  with  your  own  larger  work 
that  soon  wall  stand  as  complete  as  this.  We  can 
never  forget  the  sympathy  in  which  we  have 
wrought  together,  and  should  the  life  of  either  of 
us  be  the  sacrifice  needed  to  consecrate  these  efforts 
for  the  redemption  of  our  people,  let  us  cherish  the 
undertaking  of  the  other  as  our  own." 

"Yes,  Eulalia,  that  will  be  the  consolation  of 
which  either  of  us  cannot  be  deprived,  but  rather 
I  believe  there  are  years  before  us  in  which  we  may 
together  perfect  them." 

"I  hope  so,  dearest ;  yet  there  seems  to  hover  over 
me  the  suggestion  of  some  disaster  as  the  flight  of 
that  eagle's  shadow  darkens  these  sands  as  he  soars 
above  this  cafion." 

220 


Shadows  in  a  Clear  Sky 

Nelson  looked  up  with  a  sudden  pang  to  the  sky, 
and  saw  the  bird  floating  proudly  not  far  above  the 
brink  of  the  gorge,  but  in  the  light  of  the  oblique 
rays  of  the  sun  his  shadow  was  now  moving  over 
the  hospital  roof. 

He  shook  off  the  superstitious  dread  which  for 
the  moment  had  chilled  his  heart,  and  looking  down 
into  Eulalia's  face  he  said  with  intense  emphasis : 

*'It  is  your  greater  soul  that  anticipates  such  a 
possible  test  of  your  devotion,  my  precious  Eulalia. 
Cheer  your  heart  rather  with  a  brighter  destiny  and 
the  assurance  of  rewards  of  present  happiness  for 
such  unselfishness  as  yours." 

Then,  leaning  over  her,  he  kissed  her  radiant 
cheeks,  and  mounting  his  horse  he  rode  down  the 
canon,  waving  again  and  again  his  hand  toward  his 
beloved  as  she  stood  on  the  steps  of  her  beautiful 
"House  of  Comfort"  and  threw  with  both  hands  out- 
stretched a  kiss  toward  him  when  he  turned  the 
bend  of  the  projecting  cliff  and  cast  a  last  look  back 
on  her  whom  he  should  so  soon  call  his  bride. 


221 


CHAPTER  XXV 


THE   CAPTURE 


It  was  an  eventful  summer  on  the  Navajo  reser- 
vation when  the  Hedipa  Hospital  was  opened.  The 
sick  and  suffering  of  this  great  tribe  had  never  a 
thought  before  of  what  ordinary  comforts  and 
skilled  nursing  could  bring  to  their  diseased  bodies 
and  despondent  minds.  The  fame  of  the  hospital 
went  over  the  mountains  and  mesas  and  entered 
miserable  hogans  on  the  farthest  borders  of  their 
land.  Many  sufferers  were  too  far  removed  to  grasp 
at  the  new  hope  of  life  which  it  held  out  to  others. 
Mothers  brought  their  sick  children  by  slow  jour- 
neys on  the  backs  of  ponies  to  its  open  doors.  IMany 
isolated  invalids  were  urged  by  friendly  messengers 
to  attempt  to  reach  the  care  and  skill  that  were 
waiting  them  in  the  Chelly  Canon.  So  each  ward  of 
the  hospital  was  occupied  by  five  or  six  patients  in 
the  first  three  months,  and  the  peach-gathering  time 
brought  as  many  more  to  apply  for  aid  and  shelter 
for  their  sick,  while  the  fruit  was  being  gathered 
and  dried  upon  the  shelving  sides  of  the  canon. 

A  few  weeks  under  the  care  of  Eulalia  and  her 
assistants  wrought  strange  cures,  and  a  new  spirit 
lighted  up  sad  faces.  The  squaws  especially  re- 
turned to  their  hogans  exulting  in  the  restoration 

222 


Tpie  Capture 

to  health  of  their  children  or  kinswomen  by  a 
woman's  hand  and  skill. 

Nizenni  was  revered  as  the  representative  of  the 
goddess  in  whom  they  specially  trusted. 

The  effect  of  the  Industrial  School  building  now 
approaching  completion  was  not  less  remarkable 
and  widespread.  More  than  a  hundred  young  men 
and  boys  of  suitable  age  were  waiting  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  canon  to  begin  an  education  that  would  give 
their  hands  the  skill  which  they  had  seen  displayed 
in  so  many  ways  by  the  workmen.  Captain  Nel- 
son's history  had  been  told  as  widely  as  Eulalia's, 
and  the  military  and  police  stationed  on  the  slopes 
of  the  Carizo  Mountains  and  around  the  canon  ef- 
fectually repressed  the  open  expressions  of  hostility 
of  the  conservatives,  which  were  expected  to  reach 
some  violent  form  as  the  time  approached  to  open 
the  school. 

This  was  fixed  for  the  middle  of  October.  An- 
other event  of  still  deeper  interest  to  Captain  Nelson 
and  Eulalia  was  arranged  to  precede  the  opening 
of  the  school.  They  were  to  be  married  at  the 
agency  on  the  first  of  that  month.  Eulalia,  having 
resigned  her  position  as  agency  physician,  was  then 
to  take  one  already  assigned  to  her  by  the  authorities 
at  Washington  as  assistant  to  Captain  Nelson.  The 
superintendence  of  the  Hedipa  Hospital  was  still  to 
be  retained  by  her  and  its  details  given  to  the  head 
nurse,  while  she  should  daily  visit  and  prescribe  for 
the  patients  and  control  its  management. 

Redford  and  his  daughter,  Margaret,  had  arrived 
223 


Chunda 

at  the  hospital  from  Washington  in  order  to  witness 
the  opening  of  the  school,  the  success  of  the  hospital, 
and  especially  to  attend  Eulalia's  marriage  cere- 
mony, which  was  to  be  performed  by  their  long- 
tried  friend. 

It  was  the  middle  of  September,  and  again  the 
time  of  harvest  or  maize  dance,  which,  by  traditions 
of  the  tribe,  generally  occurred  in  the  Chelly  Canon. 
This  dance  had  been  with  jealous  care  arranged  by 
the  Shamans  and  appointed  to  be  held  at  the  upper 
end  of  the  canon  in  the  great  bayou,  where  Hedipa 
and  her  companions  many  years  before  had  taken 
refuge  in  a  cavern  from  their  fancied  pursuers, 
and  where  the  effects  of  the  wonderful  carving  of 
the  cliffs  by  ancient  waters  had  aroused  their  super- 
stitious fears  for  the  fate  of  their  daughters. 

The  conservative  Navajos,  in  sympathy  with  the 
Shamans,  had  held  a  number  of  secret  councils  in 
which  they  had  determined  to  make  desperate  effort 
to  maintain  their  customs  and  religion  against  the 
aggressions  of  civilization.  The  disposition  of  the 
young  men  to  make  trial  of  the  Chin-a-li  school  and 
the  success  of  the  hospital  treatment  and  care  filled 
the  hearts  of  the  Shamans  with  chagrin,  and,  as 
the  respect  for  their  own  skill  at  healing  and  author- 
ity was  daily  lessened,  their  enmity  increased  against 
the  two  leaders  of  reform  now  so  prominently  before 
their  people. 

The  Shamans  had  put  on  a  bolder  face  to  their 
followers  in  the  secret  meetings  as  the  time  of  the 
maize  dance  approached,  and  at  last  demanded  the 

224 


The  Capture 

violent  seizure  of  those  who  were  making  the  tribe 
recreant  to  their  traditions  and  faithless  to  the  Na- 
vajo god.  They  had  summoned  all  who  would  be 
faithful  to  them  to  attend  the  dance.  From  clan  to 
clan  their  most  eloquent  and  bitter  emissaries  had 
gone,  visiting  every  part  of  the  reservation  and 
preparing  them  for  the  scene  which  would  follow 
the  festival. 

They  were  instructed  to  come  to  the  dance  with 
their  ordinary  arms  and  paint,  but  to  hide  their 
ammunition  and  heavier  guns  in  certain  caves  in  a 
neighboring  rincon  which  had  a  secret  passage  to 
the  mesa  above  it.  They  would  be  supplied  with 
weapons  and  cartridges  from  the  secret  arsenal  in 
the  mountains,  which  was  the  council  place  of  the 
Shamans  and  of  their  most  trusty  warriors. 

These  preparations  had  been  successfully  con- 
cealed from  the  authorities  at  the  agency,  but  Major 
Culvert  had  taken  special  precautions  for  the  open- 
ing of  the  school  and  this  annual  assemblage  of  the 
Navajos.  He  had  even  requested  an  additional 
force  of  cavalry  and  four  mountain  howitzers  to 
be  sent  from  Fort  Wingate  to  camp,  five  miles 
from  the  Canon  de  Chelly,  on  a  spur  of  the  Carizo 
Mountains. 

The  night  before  the  maize  dance  the  last  council 
of  the  Shamans  was  held  in  their  secret  fortress. 
They  had  been  preparing  for  this  culmination  of 
their  plot  by  a  week  of  fasting  and  incantations  to 
the  spirits  of  their  ancestors.  A  hundred  and  twenty 
selected  warriors  were  to  be  concealed  in  a  dense 

225 


ClIUNDA 

wood  beyond  the  canon  during  the  festival,  and 
afterward  protect  and  aid  the  Shamans  in  their  con- 
templated violence.  These  warriors  were  admitted 
under  the  strictest  oaths  of  secrecy  to  the  fortress 
in  which  this  council  was  held. 

The  unwonted  number  of  followers  present  in- 
creased the  excitement  of  the  Shamans,  and  their 
incantations  and  dances  soon  reached  a  pitch  of  un- 
controllable fury.  The  scene  was  such  as  comported 
with  the  strange  objects  that  rose  out  of  the  dark- 
ness, appearing,  by  the  lurid  light  of  the  pifion  fires, 
like  giant  gods  and  demons  stalking  out  of  pas- 
sages worn  through  the  cliffs  that  surrounded  a 
gorge  hollowed  by  torrents  which  once  rushed 
through  the  chasm  or  dashed  against  its  sides  and 
crumbled  away  their  softer  strata. 

Now  the  whoops  and  shrieks  of  the  dance  filled 
these  recesses  with  prayers  worthy  to  be  addressed 
to  such  demonlike  forms.  The  warriors,  huddled 
at  first  in  amazed  and  terrified  postures  at  the 
mouths  of  black  caverns  behind  them,  soon  caught 
the  fury  of  the  dancers  and  dashed  by  twos  and 
threes  into  their  circles,  imitating  them  in  their  ges- 
tures and  motions  and  joining  in  their  piercing 
cries.  The  assembly  became  at  last  a  mass  of  in- 
furiated beings  in  motion,  winding  in  and  out  of  the 
rocky  passages  and  throwing  up  their  arms  to  the 
spectral  images  that  seemed  to  tower  into  the  sky 
or  bend  favorably  to  their  supplications  in  the  in- 
creasing shadows. 

For  two  or  three  hours  this  scene  of  demoniac 
226 


The  Capture 

fury  and  shoutings  was  maintained,  until  the  actors 
sank  exhausted  on  the  ground  and  still  remained  in 
stupor  when  daylight  broke.  But  a  few  shook  off 
the  spell  and  prepared  a  feast  over  the  renewed  fires. 
About  noon,  having  listened  to  the  harangues  of  the 
Shamans,  in  which  they  revealed  as  much  as  was 
prudent  of  their  plans,  the  warriors  followed  their 
leaders  one  by  one  out  of  the  gorge.  Before  sun- 
down they  had  reached  their  place  of  concealment 
near  the  caiion  unperceived  by  the  group  of  Navajos 
who  were  passing  up  the  canon  to  the  place  of  the 
corn  dance. 

The  people  were  gathering  in  unusual  numbers 
from  all  directions,  and  as  they  went  by  the  build- 
ings at  Chin-a-li  and  the  Hedipa  Hospital  quite  dif- 
ferently viewed  them  with  admiration  or  with 
jealousy  and  hatred.  Most  of  the  women  uttered 
words  of  praise  for  "Nizenni,"  as  they  fondly  called 
Eujalia ;  some  stopped  at  the  gateway  of  the  hospital 
and  received  her  kindly  greetings;  a  few  sought  to 
embrace  her  in  gratitude  for  the  recovery  of  their 
kinsfolk  or  her  successful  treatment  of  their  own 
ailments. 

Redford  and  Margaret  had  promised  to  accom- 
pany Eulalia  and  Captain  Nelson  to  the  maize  dance, 
for  the  superintendent  had  chosen  this  opportunity 
to  make  himself  known  to  his  old  acquaintances 
from  all  parts  of  the  reservation  and  to  win  their 
favor  toward  his  undertaking.  Eulalia,  so  soon  to 
enter  upon  the  new  relations  of  marriage,  desired  to 
revive  the  scenes  of  that  last  dance  at  Chin-a-li 

227 


CnUNDA 

wlien,  a  young  maiden,  she  gave  assent  to  that  part- 
ing with  her  lover  through  which  her  hfe  had  been 
so  transformed  and  ennobled  in  its  aims  and  powers. 

As  Captain  Nelson  was  detained  beyond  the  ap- 
pointed hour  of  their  departure  from  Hedipa  Hos- 
pital by  the  arrival  of  a  government  inspector  at 
Chin-a-Ii,  he  sent  a  messenger  up  the  cahon  to  say 
that  he  would  meet  them  at  the  place  of  the  dance, 
if  he  could  not  overtake  them  on  their  way. 
So  Redford  and  Eulalia  set  out  on  their  ponies,  but 
were  obliged  to  leave  Margaret,  unwillingly  detained 
by  the  effects  of  her  recent  ride  from  Fort  Defiance. 

The  evening  was  clear  and  the  night  air  inspirit- 
ing, but  the  shadows  of  the  canon  walls  under  which 
they  rode  were  all  the  deeper  for  the  moonlight 
which  bathed  the  opposite  sides  of  the  cliffs.  They 
were  led  by  two  guides,  one  of  whom  was  Nesito, 
who  had  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  Eulalia, 
and  having  grown  to  a  stalwart  Navajo  had  been 
made  a  responsible  employee  of  the  hospital,  serving 
both  as  steward  and  interpreter. 

Eulalia  was  riding  in  a  happy  mood,  recounting 
to  Redford  her  experiences  during  the  winter  and 
the  perplexities  she  had  met  and  solved  in  the  fur- 
therance of  her  hospital  enterprise.  Then  she  pic- 
tured to  him  the  content  and  happiness  which  she 
expected  in  their  new  plans  after  her  long-deferred 
marriage,  when  they  should  begin  together  their 
hazardous  efforts  to  transform  their  tribe. 

Redford  listened  with  wonder  to  her  lively  recital 
of  what  had  been  already  done.     As  he  heard  her 

228 


The  Capture 

often  pathetic  story  he  contrasted  this  scene  with 
another  when  Hot-si  and  Chtinda  rode  through  a 
wild  night  of  storm  out  of  the  darkness  of  this  canon 
to  reach  those  changes  in  conditions  and  characters 
already  accompHshed. 

They  were  yet  half  a  mile  from  the  place  of  the 
dance,  and  crossing  the  sandy  bottom  of  a  wide  gulf 
in  the  gorge.  Suddenly,  from  the  nearer  and  darker 
side  came  the  sound  of  horsemen  dashing  across  the 
sands.  Nesito  turned  his  horse  quickly,  and  rode 
back  crying  to  Eulalia  and  her  companion : 

"Nizenni!  Maestro!  You  are  both  in  danger. 
It  is  the  Shamans'  cry,  and  I  hear  their  war  whoop 
echoed  above  the  cliff.  Ride  fast  toward  the  dance. 
There  are  friends  among  the  people  who  will  protect 
you.  It  is  your  only  chance.  You  cannot  turn,  but 
beware  of  the  Shamans.    They  hate  you,  Nizenni !" 

Eulalia  did  not  hesitate;  she  trusted  the  fidelity 
of  Nesito,  and  urged  her  horse  to  the  utmost  speed. 
Redford  fell  behind  as  the  trail  grew  narrower,  but 
ere  long  they  were  both  overtaken  and  their  bridles 
seized  by  the  foremost  riders,  who  without  check- 
ing their  speed,  turned  the  horses  across  the  shallow 
current  of  the  Chelly  River.  It  was  useless  to  re- 
monstrate. As  they  reached  the  other  side  half  a 
dozen  warriors  gathered  around  them  and  ordered 
them  to  dismount.  In  vain  Eulalia  told  them  they 
were  making  captive  an  officer  of  the  government  in 
seizing  her.  Their  hands  were  bound  and  mufflers 
tightly  drawn  across  their  mouths,  so  that  they 
could  not  speak,  nor  hardly  could  they  breathe. 

229 


CnUNDA 

They  were  at  the  opening  of  a  ravine  cleft  in  the 
walls  of  the  canon  and  leading  up  a  sharp  ascent  to 
the  top.  The  Navajos  quickly  unloosened  their 
lariats  of  horsehair  from  their  saddles  and  tied  them 
firmly  around  the  waists  of  their  captives.  Then 
four  of  them  went  forward  and  two  behind  as  they 
climbed  up  the  rough  ravine,  dragging  and  pushing 
their  helpless  prisoners  up  the  dark  passageway, 
which  grew  wider  toward  the  top.  It  had  been  made 
by  the  summer  torrents  falling  over  the  cliffs,  but 
from  the  bottom  of  the  canon  it  was  hardly  notice- 
able on  account  of  its  narrow  opening  and  its  wind- 
ing through  the  harder  sandstone  below. 

But  this  defile  led  to  the  hiding  place  of  the 
Navajo  warriors,  who  were  soon  exulting  over  the 
success  of  the  adventure,  which  had  been  quickly 
planned  by  the  aid  of  spies  near  the  hospital.  These 
had  reported  the  departure  of  the  company  for  the 
dance  to  some  of  the  Shamans,  and  one  of  their 
hated  opposers  was  already  in  their  power. 


230 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

IN    THE    HIDDEN    STRONGHOLD 

The  Maize  dance  in  the  Chelly  Canon  was  pro- 
ceeding with  unusual  vigor  under  the  direction  of 
two  or  three  Shamans  assigned  to  this  part  of  the 
plot  for  diverting  the  attention  of  the  people  who 
were  friendly  to  the  school  and  hospital.  There 
was  no  interruption  to  the  movements  of  the  dance 
on  account  of  the  information  which  had  been  se- 
cretly given  to  the  Shamans  that  those  who  were 
lying  in  wait  had  captured  Nizenni  and  the  Maestro. 
The  superintendent  had  not  yet  been  w^aylaid,  and 
it  was  needful  that  the  great  assembly  should  not  be 
disturbed  by  the  knowledge  of  the  outrage  already 
committed.  It  would  soon  enough  cause  a  division 
of  the  tribe  after  they  had  put  away  the  leaders  in 
the  movement  for  education  and  change  of  their 
customs. 

In  an  hour  or  two  the  Shamans  managed  to  trans- 
fer their  costumes  of  headdress,  feathers  and  paint 
to  younger  men  who  were  their  adepts  or  learners. 
The  older  men  withdrew  to  set  out  for  the  council 
house,  and,  their  absence  being  noticed  by  some  of 
their  supporters,  they  began  to  gather  apart  in 
small  groups,  and  after  hurried  consultations  dis- 
appeared in  the  darkness. 

The  Shamans  had  planned  for  the  removal  of 
231 


Chunda 

Nelson  and  Nizenni,  whom  they  hoped  to  capture 
together,  to  the  council  house  and  fortress  in  the 
mountains.  The  principal  men  favoring  the  Sha- 
mans were  to  follow,  with  the  warriors,  during  the 
night,  and  in  their  presence  the  Shamans  were  to 
hold  a  trial  of  the  captives,  who  were  to  be  accused 
of  witchcraft  and  by  cruel  methods  of  exorcism 
forced  to  renounce  their  Christian  faith  and  their 
efforts  to  change  the  tribe,  or  to  suffer  the  death  by 
torture  which  they  would  justify  by  an  ancient 
tradition,  but  which,  for  many  years,  had  not  been 
inflicted  on  any  of  their  tribe. 

That  this  plan  might  be  executed  quickly,  and 
before  a  rescue  could  be  effected  by  the  friends  of 
the  captives,  the  warriors  were  instructed  to  remove 
them  at  once  to  the  mountain  fortress. 

Eulalia  and  Mr.  Redford,  therefore,  had  been 
mounted  on  horses  and,  guarded  by  about  twenty 
warriors,  were  started  on  a  rough  trail  to  the  moun- 
tain gorge  where,  the  night  before,  the  devil  dance 
had  infuriated  their  followers  and  prepared  them  to 
resist  the  troops  that  might  be  sent  against  them. 

They  rode  in  the  gloom  of  night,  for  the  moon 
had  now  disappeared.  The  trail  was  strewn  with 
rocks,  over  which  the  horses  of  the  captives  stum- 
bled, and  they  were  often  obliged  to  dismount  at 
steep  places  on  the  mountainside.  The  mufflers 
over  their  faces  not  only  prevented  their  speaking 
to  each  other,  but  interfered  with  their  breathing  in 
the  difficult  parts  of  the  ascent.  They  were,  there- 
fore, released  from  the  stifling  bandages  and  lariat 

232 


In  the  Hidden  Stronghold 
bonds,  but  that  they  might  exchange  no  word  or 
utter  a  cry  for  help  they  were  separated  and  put 
under  different  guards. 

Half  conscious  of  their  desperate  situation,  the 
captives  rode  on  with  feelings  dulled  by  pain  and 
fatigue  and  by  the  shock  which  their  capture  and 
violent  removal  out  of  the  canon  had  brought  to 
them. 

The  air  was  growing  colder  and  their  limbs  were 
numbed,  but  neither  Redford  nor  Eulalia  yet  de- 
spaired of  being  rescued.  Eulalia  had  such  confi- 
dence in  the  sympathy  and  friendship  of  her  people 
that  she  believed  they  would  soon  interfere  with 
their  captors  and  insist  on  her  release.  Redford 
thought  they  would  delay  to  inflict  any  violence 
which  might  be  intended  until  there  was  some  coun- 
cil of  the  principal  men  of  their  party  over  their 
captives,  and  meanwhile  Captain  Nelson  and  the 
troops  at  his  call  w^ould  make  a  rapid  pursuit  and 
deliver  them.  But,  though  ignorant  of  the  designs 
of  their  foes,  each  felt  that  never  before  had  they 
need  of  such  courage  and  fortitude  and  of  divine 
protection  as  in  the  trouble  which  had  now  befallen 
them. 

As  the  hours  of  that  ride  passed,  widening  the 
distance  between  them  and  their  friends,  w^ho,  per- 
haps, did  not  yet  know  of  their  capture,  the  con- 
viction of  their  terrible  plight  was  forced  upon  them. 
They  perceived  that  they  were  being  carried  into  a 
rough  and  unfrequented  part  of  the  reservation. 
There  was  but  a  single  trail,  instead  of  several  side 

233 


Chunda 

by  side  where  many  were  wont  to  ride  together. 
The  cold  was  increasingly  severe.  They  shivered  in 
their  light  wraps.  Little  was  said  by  the  Navajo 
warriors,  and  they  gave  no  heed  to  questions  or 
remonstrances  from  their  captives ,  who,  as  the 
hours  went  on,  were  convinced  that  they  were  to  be 
detained  a  long  time  from  their  friends.  There 
were  more  foreboding  evils.  They  were  to  be  in 
the  power  of  the  Shamans,  and  Eulalia  knew  well 
their  vindictiveness  and  desperation.  As  a  member 
of  the  tribe,  she  was  liable  to  be  charged  by  them 
with  crimes  which  she  could  only  expiate  by  a  cruel 
death.  Redford  was  hated  as  a  white  man  and 
cursed  for  his  influence  over  their  people,  and  for 
his  instigation  of  the  building  of  institutions  and 
change  of  occupations  which  would  free  them  from 
the  control  of  the  Shamans.  Only  the  fear  of  the 
government  at  Washington  had  hitherto  restrained 
them  from  violence  against  him.  Would  he  be  safe 
from  it  now,  when  he  was  wholly  in  their  power, 
although  by  an  accident  which  had  delivered  him 
rather  than  Captain  Nelson  into  their  clutches? 

Such  thoughts  were  now  bringing  both  Eulalia 
and  her  companion,  though  separate  from  each 
other,  into  a  state  of  anxiety  and  alarm  in  sorrowful 
contrast  with  the  happy  anticipations  and  sympa- 
thies in  which  they  had  indulged  as  they  rode  away 
from  Hedipa  Hospital  the  previous  afternoon. 

Neither  of  them  could  satisfactorily  conjecture 
what  would  be  the  measures  for  their  recapture,  for 
the  speedy  announcement  of  their  seizure  by  the 

234 


ENTRANCE     TO    THE     GORGE 


In  the  HroDEN  Stronghold 

Navajos  depended  on  the  fidelity  and  safety  of  their 
two  guides.  Would  they  ever  be  found  in  this 
mysterious  retreat  to  which  they  were  being  carried  ? 
Could  any  force  rescue  them  from  the  wrath  and 
cruelty  of  the  Shamans  ?  Eulalia  turned  from  these 
questions  which  rose  repeatedly  to  her  lips  to  quiet 
her  heart  with  the  assurance  that  her  betrothed, 
though  filled  with  anguish  at  her  fate,  would  spare 
no  effort  to  solve  its  mystery.  She  knew  not  the 
will  of  God,  whether  or  not  it  would  preserve  her 
life,  but  she  believed  in  the  devotion  of  him  whom 
she  was  so  soon  to  call  her  husband.  Her  faith 
roused  her  to  stronger  purpose  and  willingness  to 
suffer,  if  need  be,  for  what  had  been  already  accom- 
plished through  her  for  the  redemption  of  her 
people.  Long  before  this  she  had  resolved  to  die 
before  she  would  relinquish  her  efforts  for  her  help- 
less and  suffering  kinsfolk. 

The  sunlight  was  streaming  over  the  rugged  spur 
of  the  mountain  they  had  been  climbing  for  the  last 
hour,  when  the  captives  looked  down  into  a  rock- 
girt  basin.  Isolated  rocks  rose  in  distorted  shapes 
of  men  and  animals  beneath  her.  The  black  mouths 
of  caverns  and  the  shadows  of  narrow  rocky  pas- 
sages increased  the  terrors  of  the  scene.  Here  was 
the  hiding  place  of  the  warriors,  the  council  house 
of  the  Shamans,  the  secret  arsenal  and  fortress 
known  only  to  the  principal  men  of  the  tribe,  who 
were  their  trusty  followers.  They  had  approached 
this  retreat  by  a  single  trail  through  a  narrow 
caiion,  but  now  the  warriors  led  their  captives  far 

235 


Chunda 

within  the  basin  and  stopped  under  the  shadow  of  a 
blackened  wall  that  divided  an  open  space  and  con- 
tained a  cavern  which  afforded  a  secure  lodgment 
for  their  victims.  Here  they  were  placed  beside  a 
fire,  and  food  was  offered  to  them. 

Happily  they  were  now  together,  yet  they  waited 
an  opportunity  to  speak  alone  and  to  encourage 
each  other  in  their  dismal  plight.  But  soon  Eulalia, 
leaning  against  a  rock,  sank  to  sleep  from  exhaus- 
tion and  grief,  while  Redford  calmed  his  spirit  with 
a  prayer  for  that  human  succor  which  only  Heaven 
could  make  effective  for  their  deliverance  from  such 
a  dungeon. 

In  the  excitement  of  the  flight  and  capture  in  the 
canon  Nesito  had  been  separated  from  the  other 
guide,  and  riding  into  the  shadow  of  the  wall  oppo- 
site the  ravine  he  watched  the  motions  of  the  cap- 
tors. As  he  was  trying  to  discover  the  intentions  of 
the  Navajos  as  to  the  disposal  of  their  prisoners  he 
recalled  the  name  of  the  secret  council  house,  which 
one  of  the  Navajos  had  uttered  as  they  were  cross- 
ing the  stream.  He  had  often  heard  of  its  existence, 
but  as  a  secret  hidden  from  most  of  the  tribe.  Nesito 
also  bethought  himself  of  Captain  Nelson  and  of  his 
danger,  should  he  be  also  waited  for  in  this  place. 

The  Navajos  had  disappeared  up  the  ravine,  leav- 
ing their  horses  in  charge  of  one  of  their  number. 
It  was  difficult  to  avoid  suspicion  should  he  move 
out  of  the  shadows,  but  he  turned  his  horse's  head 
down  the  cafion  and  slowly  rode  away.  Hearing 
others   behind   him,   he   quickened   his   pace,   and, 

236 


In  the  Hidden  Stronghold 

finding  he  was  not  molested,  put  his  horse  to  a  swift 
gallop.  He  was  near  the  hospital  when  he  met  Cap- 
tain Nelson  and  told  him  not  only  of  his  danger, 
but  the  dreadful  tidings  of  the  capture  of  Nizenni 
and  the  Maestro.  He  then,  in  calmer  tones,  re- 
counted the  rumors  he  had  heard  of  the  gathering 
of  the  warriors  for  some  secret  expedition  and  the 
probable  place  to  which  they  had  borne  their  prison- 
ers for  concealment. 

Captain  Nelson  listened  with  a  pallid  face  to  the 
terrible  news;  then  he  grew  livid  with  wrath.  But 
it  was,  he  remembered,  the  time  for  self-control  and 
calm  decision,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  had  chosen 
how  to  meet  the  fearful  emergency.  Turning  his 
horse,  he  rode  quickly  to  the  hospital,  summoned 
the  attendants,  and,  sending  for  Margaret,  told  them 
all  of  the  capture  and  the  flight  of  the  warriors. 

To  pacify  the  terror  and  grief  of  Margaret  he 
asked  her  to  take  charge  of  the  hospital  in  Eulalia's 
place,  give  directions  to  the  nurses  and  patients, 
and  conduct  the  household  until  he  should  return. 
Then,  writing  a  dispatch  to  Major  Culvert,  who  was 
at  Chin-a-li  with  the  government  inspector,  he  gave 
the  tidings  of  Eulalia's  capture  and  the  additional 
information  of  the  Shaman  conspiracy  which 
friendly  Navajos  had  been  bringing  him  since  he 
arrived  at  the  hospital,  and  asked  that  the  military 
forces  and  mounted  police  be  summoned  to  Chin-a-li 
to  guard  the  buildings  and  march  to  the  rescue  of 
the  captives.  Captain  Nelson  added  that  he  knew 
the  place  where  they  would  be  concealed.     When 

237 


Chunda 

on  one  of  his  hunts  in  his  youth  he  had  followed  a 
trail  up  a  mountain  and  discovered  the  secret  resort 
of  the  Shamans.  He  had  explored  its  caves  and 
rocky  channels  and  discovered  even  then  some  of 
the  arms  and  ammunition  there  kept  in  hiding.  Re- 
turning, he  had  revealed  the  discovery  to  the  chief, 
his  father,  by  whom  he  had  been  enjoined  to  the 
strictest  secrecy.  Now  the  remembrance  of  it  filled 
him  with  dread  for  the  fate  of  his  beloved  Eulalia 
and  her  companion  in  the  power  of  the  most  cruel 
and  violent  men  of  the  tribe.  He  was  sure  he  could 
discover  again  the  beginning  of  the  trail  and 
guide  a  force  to  the  inevitable  conflict  which  would 
take  place.  He  concluded  his  dispatch  in  these 
words:  "Let  every  available  soldier  and  mounted 
Navajo  policemen,  who  is  not  needed  for  the  de- 
fense of  the  school  and  hospital  buildings,  be  mus- 
tered for  this  hazardous  service.  I  will  be  at  Chin- 
a-li  at  daybreak." 

The  dispatch  was  sent  by  Nesito  and  another 
trusty  Navajo,  and  in  half  an  hour  was  in  Major 
Culvert's  hands. 

Meanwhile.  Captain  Nelson,  who  could  not  leave 
the  hospital  without  sufficient  protection,  had  been 
imparting  to  Margaret  Redford  and  the  nurses  some 
of  the  apparent  hopefulness  with  which  he  entered 
upon  the  arrangements  for  the  march  and  rescue, 
though  his  heart  was  being  torn  with  anguish  for 
his  betrothed. 

The  friendly  Navajos  were  gathering  in  consid- 
erable numbers  at  the  hospital.    Many  of  them  were 

238 


In  the  Hidden  Stronghold 

armed  with  Winchesters,  and  those  who  were  known 
to  him  he  called  together  and  told  them  of  the  out- 
rage that  had  been  already  committed  at  the  instiga- 
tion of  the  Shamans.  Relying  upon  their  devotion 
to  Eulalia,  he  asked  them  to  form  a  guard  for  the 
hospital  and  to  send  trusty  scouts  up  the  cafion  to 
report  the  approach  of  any  Navajos  in  war  paint. 
He  also  organized  them  under  their  principal  men 
into  an  auxiliary  force  to  the  soldiers  who  would  be 
stationed  at  the  hospital  in  the  morning. 

Then  Captain  Nelson  called  for  volunteers  to 
guard  in  a  similar  way  the  buildings  at  Chin-a-li. 
More  than  fifty  Navajos  promised  to  be  there  at 
sunrise.  Most  of  them  waited  until  Captain  Nel- 
son's departure,  that  they  might  be  properly  vouched 
for  to  the  officer  in  command. 

The  hours  of  the  night,  so  painfully  passed  by  the 
captives  in  their  cruel  bonds,  were  thus  spent  in 
preparations  for  their  deliverance  and  the  safety  of 
the  institutions  for  which  their  lives  were  now  in 
peril. 

Major  Culvert  had  acted  promptly  on  the  receipt 
of  the  alarming  news  and  dispatch  from  the  super- 
intendent, and  as  the  sun  was  rising  the  whole  avail- 
able force  of  cavalry  with  their  howitzers  arrived 
at  Chin-a-li,  where  they  found  Captain  Nelson  and 
the  Navajo  volunteers  and  Major  Culvert  with  the 
mounted  police  already  on  the  ground. 

The  troops  and  volunteers  were  quickly  detailed 
for  service.  A  guard  of  twenty  soldiers,  with  a 
howitzer,  was  sent  to  the  Hedipa  Hospital.     An- 

239 


Chunda 

other  g-iiard  of  twenty-five  soldiers,  with  fifty  Nava- 
jos  and  a  howitzer,  was  stationed  in  and  around  the 
Industrial  School  buildings.  Fifty  picked  cavalry 
and  twenty  of  the  police  under  Major  Culvert,  with 
two  howitzers  and  ten  Navajo  scouts,  constituted 
the  force  which,  without  much  delay,  was  ordered 
to  take  up  their  line  of  march  under  the  guidance 
of  Captain  Nelson  and  in  command  of  Major  Med- 
ford,  a  recognized  veteran  of  experience  in  Apache 
fighting. 

The  road  up  to  the  mesa  above  the  Chelly  Canon 
was  difficult,  but  when  the  level  ground  was  reached 
Captain  Nelson  started  in  an  easterly  course  over 
a  trail  leading  to  a  range  of  mountains  occasionally 
seen  above  the  pifion  trees  which  covered  the  mesa. 
Making  for  a  low  spur  of  this  range,  he  found  a 
ravine,  which,  being  followed  to  its  head,  brought 
them  into  a  trail  on  which  many  fresh  tracks  of 
horses  and  footmen  were  seen.  His  hunter's  in- 
stinct, quickened  by  the  intense  eagerness  and  agony 
of  his  mind,  had  discovered  the  trail  which  twenty 
years  before  had  led  him  to  the  spot  where  was  now 
concealed  and  in  savage  hands  the  one  without 
whom  life  would  seem  a  mockery  of  all  his  hopes 
and  happiness. 

It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  the 
scouts  reported  this  trail.  Nelson  thought  that  there 
were  at  least  twenty  miles  of  mountain  climbing 
before  they  could  reach  the  fortress  of  the  Navajos. 
The  trail  was  more  and  more  difficult,  and  the  last 
five  miles  would  be  through  thickets  and  wood- 

240 


In  the  Hidden  Stronghold 

growths  requiring  the  most  cautious  advance  to 
guard  against  ambuscades. 

It  was  evident  that  it  would  be  nightfall  before 
the  gorge  or  basin  could  be  reached  where  the 
Shamans  and  their  followers  were  posted.  They 
would  guard  most  jealously  the  narrow  rocky 
canon,  where  they  would  make  their  most  vigorous 
defense.  The  cavalry  would  be  impeded  by  their 
horses,  and  Major  Medford,  therefore,  ordered  that 
his  troops  and  the  police  should  dismount  at  the 
entrance  of  the  wood,  and  advance  with  the  howitz- 
ers on  foot,  throwing  out  scouts  to  discover  the 
beginning  of  the  canon,  and  there  to  halt  till  day- 
light. Then  the  engagement  should  begin,  if  they 
were  not  sooner  attacked,  and  should  be  relentlessly 
fought  for  the  extermination  of  the  Shamans  and 
all  of  the  warriors  wdio,  refusing  to  surrender, 
should  fight  in  their  defense. 

Without  doubt,  the  hostile  Navajos  had  been 
already  informed  of  the  approach  of  the  troops,  and, 
unless  they  were  fully  committed  to  the  side  of  the 
Shamans,  many  would  be  likely  to  desert  them  be- 
fore sundown ;  but  the  rest  would  make  a  stubborn 
resistance  in  what  seemed  to  them  a  place  impossible 
to  penetrate  if  resolutely  defended. 

There  were  increasing  dangers  from  ambuscade  as 
the  attacking  force  made  their  way  upward  through 
ravines  and  thickets,  but  no  attack  was  attempted. 
The  Shamans  evidently  desired  to  retain  all  their 
strength  for  the  defense  of  their  stronghold.  If 
they  could  make  a  successful  resistance,  and  kill  a 

241 


ClIUNDA 

few  United  States  troops,  they  believed  the  war 
spirit  would  spread  like  a  devouring  flame  through 
their  mesa  parks,  and  that  few  of  their  three  thou- 
sand able-bodied  warriors  would  fail  to  take  the 
warpath  against  the  foes  to  their  traditions  and 
their  people.  Then  they  could  quickly  destroy  all 
the  troops  within  or  on  the  borders  of  their  reser- 
vation. 

They  had  boldly  struck  at  the  leaders  of  the  re- 
form movement  in  their  tribe.  It  was  likely  that 
they  would  hasten  to  condemn  them  to  death,  that 
their  blood  might  infuriate  their  followers  to  a 
spirited  defense  and  a  devastating  war. 

These  aspects  of  the  situation  seemed  to  increase 
the  peril  of  Eulalia  and  Redford.  The  progress  of 
the  march  was  so  slow  that  Captain  Nelson's  heart 
was  wrenched  at  every  delay,  and  the  postponement 
of  the  attack  till  morning  snatched  away  all  reason- 
able hope  that  the  lives  of  the  captives  would  be 
spared. 

But  the  success  of  the  attack  depended  on  the 
advantages  which  daylight  would  afford  in  the 
deadly  assault  that  would  lead  to  the  destruction  of 
one  or  the  other  of  the  conflicting  forces. 


242 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THROUGH    THE    FIRES    INTO    LIFE 

The  morning  hours  had  passed  in  the  mountain 
fortress  with  increasing  forebodings  of  evil  designs 
against  the  captives.  It  was  a  rehef  to  Redford  to 
perceive  Eulaha's  exhaustion,  for  she  was  still  much 
inclined  to  sleep  and  but  partly  sensible  of  the  peril 
that  hung  over  them  both.  From  the  entrance  of 
the  cavern  where  they  were  confined  could  be  seen 
much  that  was  transpiring  around  them.  New  faces 
were  peering  in  upon  them  every  few  minutes,  and 
the  noise  of  many  voices  and  angry  altercations  was 
reechoed  from  the  rocks  and  caves  around  the  open 
space  upon  which  they  looked  from  their  prison. 

There  were  many  arrivals  from  the  dance  until 
noon,  each  one  announced  by  an  exulting  laugh  or 
whoop  as  they  leaped  down  into  the  gorge.  There 
was  evidently  yet  no  thought  of  the  avenging  force 
that  was  approaching  them  from  another  direction 
than  the  one  they  had  taken,  and  by  a  trail  known 
to  only  the  chief  Shamans.  Their  movements  were 
too  deliberate  to  betray  any  unusual  excitement, 
such  as  the  report  of  the  advance  of  a  rescuing  party 
would  have  produced  among  these  warriors. 

The  Shamans  were  heard  to  announce  that  they 
would  wait  until  sundown,  that  everyone  of  their 
own  number  might  be  present  at  the  trial  of  the  cap- 

243 


Chunda 

tives,  and  a  few  other  principal  men  of  large  influ- 
ence might  arrive,  on  whose  cooperation  they  were 
depending  in  their  plot  to  expel  the  white  men  from 
their  reservation.  Their  absence  had  already  caused 
them  some  uneasiness. 

But  it  was  difficult  to  restrain  the  growing  im- 
patience of  those  who  were  already  here.  Some  of 
them  insisted  that  a  force  be  sent  to  guard  the  en- 
trance of  the  gorge  as  far  as  the  beginning  of  the 
mountain  canon.  There  were  a  few  who  volun- 
teered to  go,  but  no  one  to  give  the  command.  The 
war  chief  had  not  yet  arrived.  Without  his  consent 
their  fighting  would  be  unauthorized  and  desultory, 
and  must  fail  to  command  the  support  of  the  tribe. 
But  there  were  a  number  of  scouts  who  posted  them- 
selves at  the  entrance  of  the  gorge  to  learn  from  late 
comers  any  tidings  they  might  have  of  the  move- 
ments of  troops  near  Chin-a-li. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  Shamans 
decided  to  begin  the  trial  in  order  to  hold  the  rest- 
less warriors  within  the  fortress.  Fires  were  lighted 
in  the  center  of  the  open  space,  and  the  Navajos 
with  fierce  and  exulting  countenances  seated  them- 
selves in  a  large  circle  around  the  burning  logs  of 
pifion  and  cedar. 

Fifteen  Shamans,  arrayed  in  their  most  imposing 
dresses  and  ornaments  and  in  hideous  masks,  came 
slowly  out  from  their  council  house,  a  large  in- 
closure  of  high  rocks,  and  took  seats  upon  a  ledge 
elevated  above  the  others.  Nearly  a  hundred  and 
fifty  grim  warriors  and  a  few  principal  men  who 

244 


Through  the  Fires  into  Life 

were  not  yet  in  war  paint  joined  in  the  low  chant 
which  was  started  by  a  Shaman.  As  its  tones 
reached  the  ears  of  the  captives  Eulaha  compre- 
hended by  the  few  words  that  came  at  intervals  dis- 
tinctly to  her  the  deadly  purpose  of  their  council. 
She  knew  that  her  life  and  that  of  her  fellow  captive 
depended  now  on  the  effect  of  the  incantations  of  the 
malignant  Shamans  on  the  inflammable  and  savage 
passions  of  the  warriors. 

The  sounds  rose  louder  and  more  piercing,  and 
the  shouts  of  the  warriors  drowned  the  shrill  cries 
of  the  leaders.  Then  the  din  suddenly  ceased.  Five 
warriors  appeared  at  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  darted 
in,  and  seizing  the  prisoners  by  the  hands  made  them 
rise  to  their  feet.  They  cut  the  bands  which  held 
their  limbs,  led  them  out  into  the  dazzling  firelight, 
and  placed  them  in  the  midst  of  the  circle  of  faces 
grim  with  fury,  for  their  voices  had  been  by  com- 
mand of  the  Shamans  abruptly  stilled. 

As  an  angry  murmur  was  beginning  to  go  over 
the  assembly  the  chief  Shaman  rose  and  pointed  to 
Eulalia.  Another  came  forward  and  laying  hold  of 
her  outer  wrap  tore  it  from  her  shoulders.  Then, 
throwing  over  her  head  the  skirt  of  a  Navajo 
woman  and  fastening  a  blanket  around  her  shoul- 
ders, that  she  might  thus  be  clothed  in  the  garb  of 
her  tribe,  he  led  her  forward  to  the  seats  of  the 
Shamans.  As  Eulalia  left  Redford's  side,  with  un- 
faltering voice  he  said : 

"Courage,  brave  heart.  Your  Lord  also  wit- 
nessed a  good  confession.    He  will  sustain  you,  and 

245 


ClIUNDA 

by  his  Spirit  tell  you  what  to  say  to  your  accusers. 
You  have  fought  a  good  fight.  Perhaps  you  have 
finished  your  course  already  in  your  youth,  but  you 
have  kept  the  faith,  and  your  people  will  be  re- 
deemed. Your  crown  awaits  you  above.  Farewell, 
Eulalia!" 

She  turned  a  look  of  grateful  love  upon  her  com- 
panion. She  had  only  time  to  say,  "God  be  with 
you  too,  dear  friend,"  and  walked  firmly  away  to- 
ward her  foes. 

Then  the  chief  Shaman  in  loud  voice  told  the 
changes  that  this  treacherous  daughter  of  their  tribe 
had  already  wrought,  and  the  power  she  had  gained 
over  the  minds  of  their  women,  whom  she  was  lead- 
ing astray  from  their  gods.  He  declared  her  in 
league  not  only  with  the  recreant  son  of  one  of  their 
chiefs  who  had  returned  from  the  w-hite  men  to 
delude  their  youth,  but  she  was  also  possessed  by 
devils  that  would  destroy  their  children,  bring  dis- 
ease on  their  flocks,  and  blight  their  cornfields  till 
the  tribe  should  dwindle  away  and  the  white  men 
take  possession  of  the  country  of  their  fathers.  He 
ended  his  charges  with  a  torrent  of  invectives  and 
curses,  demanding  that  this  woman  be  tortured  in 
order  to  exorcise  the  devil  and  destroy  her  witch 
power,  and  that  then  she  be  burned  to  appease  the 
Navajo  god. 

The  accuser's  w^ords  produced  an  effect  more 
quickly  than  he  could  have  expected.  Loud  cries 
went  around  the  circle  of  listeners,  and  they  sprang 
to  their  feet  in  their  excitement,  but  Eulalia  grew 

246 


Through  the  Fires  into  Life 

calmer  amid  their  imprecations  and  raised  her  eyes 
toward  heaven. 

The  chief  Shaman  suddenly  motioned  for  silence, 
and  after  a  moment's  pause  turned  to  the  accused 
maiden. 

"Nizenni,"  he  cried,  "will  you  cease  your  efforts 
to  chang-e  your  people?  Will  you  submit  to  the 
power  and  guidance  of  the  Shamans?  Will  you 
again  declare  your  faith  in  the  gods  of  your  ances- 
tors?" 

Eulalia  looked  resolutely  into  the  eyes  of  the 
Shaman,  who  had  now  dropped  his  mask,  and  she 
perceived  their  malice  and  cunning.  Then,  raising 
her  voice  in  clear  but  gentle  accents,  she  replied : 

"I  have  nothing  to  declare  but  my  faith  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  which  is  dearer  to  me  than  life. 
My  work  for  my  people  no  suffering  you  can  inflict 
shall  ever  make  me  cease,  or  them  forget,  so  long  as 
I  live." 

Then,  turning  to  her  foes  around  her,  she  cried : 

"What  have  I  ever  done  to  you  that  was  evil? 
Have  I  not  relieved  the  sickness  and  pain  of  your 
wives  and  children?  What  death  have  I  hastened? 
What  words  have  I  spoken  to  deceive  them?  For 
that  good  work  which  I  have  wrought  among  you 
will  you  consent  to  my  condemnation  to  cruel  pain 
and  death?" 

Eulalia's  face  so  shone  with  the  light  of  love  that 
it  touched  a  chief's  son  who  was  already  of  great 
influence  among  his  nation,  and  who,  though  in  this 
murderous  throng,  had  no  war  paint  on  his  face. 

247 


CnUNDA 

He  stepped  forward  to  separate  himself  from  the 
others  and  cried  out : 

"Navajos,  beware  of  your  Shaman  masters! 
Protect  this  girl  of  your  tribe  from  their  wrath. 
Her  death  will  be  avenged." 

A  shout  interrupted  this  bold  outcry  so  unex- 
pected. The  w^arriors  sprang  to  their  feet  and 
brandished  their  rifles  and  spears. 

"Let  her  be  tried  by  fire !"  "Kill  the  devil  in  her !" 
"Save  the  tribe!"  they  hoarsely  yelled. 

The  chief  Shaman  seized  the  favorable  moment 
of  fury  that  had  taken  possession  of  the  assembly. 
He  made  a  gesture  toward  a  cave  to  which  two  of 
the  Shamans  ran,  and  then  quickly  came  back  hold- 
ing in  their  hands  iron  pincers  flaming  hot. 

They  rushed  up  to  Eulalia,  while  the  cries  of  the 
warriors  again  were  hushed.  They  tore  the  blanket 
from  her  shoulders  and  stripped  her  dress  from  her 
arms  and  neck,  laying  bare  her  bosom,  from  which 
they  each  tore  out  with  the  red-hot  prongs  pieces 
of  quivering  flesh. 

In  those  moments  of  torture  Eulalia  uttered  no 
sound.  Then,  as  they  ceased,  she  looked  down  on 
her  bleeding  bosom  in  an  ecstasy  of  the  spirit. 

"Thus,  Lord,"  she  cried,  in  triumph  over  her 
agony,  "do  they  write  thy  name  over  my  heart. 
Thou  givest  me  the  victory,  O  Christ!  For  thee 
and  my  people  I  suffer.    Thy  will  be  done !" 

A  martyr  spirit  from  the  early  days  of  the  church 
must  have  waved  over  her  head  at  that  moment  a 
palm  of  victory,  for  a  strange  light  flashed  upon 

248 


Through  the  Fires  Into  Life 

the  dreadful  scene  and  rested  for  a  moment  on 
her  rapt  face,  whose  beautiful  eyes  glanced  upward 
ere  she  sank  to  the  ground. 

The  test  of  exorcism  had  failed.  No  demoniac 
cry  had  come  from  the  victim  as  the  evil  spirit  fled. 

But  the  hate  of  devils  in  human  form  had  not 
been  sated.  The  Shamans  now  called  above  the 
confusion  for  wood  and  fire.  Some  of  them  leaped 
to  the  ground  and  seized  sticks  from  a  pile  of  pinon, 
while  others  bound  the  trembling  form  of  Eulalia 
to  a  post  and  heaped  around  her  feet  the  pitchy  fuel. 
A  brand  was  cast  under  it.  The  flame  arose,  but 
still  the  victim  uttered  no  witch's  scream. 

A  cry  of  agony  escaped  from  Redford.  He  had 
burst  his  bonds  and,  leaping  to  the  pile,  had  scat- 
tered with  his  feet  the  half-kindled  sticks,  when  a 
shot  rang  out  above  the  angry  roar  of  the  warriors, 
and  he  fell  at  her  side  in  mortal  agony. 

That  shot  from  a  Navajo  rifle  awakened  others. 
A  startling  volley  reechoed  from  the  entrance  of  the 
gorge,  which  was  in  full  view  of  the  scene.  Ten 
of  the  Shamans,  standing  on  the  ledge,  had  been 
prominent  marks  for  the  unerring  rifles  of  the 
troops,  who  now  thronged  the  gorge.  Their  bul- 
lets had  also  plowed  through  the  massed  warriors, 
of  whom  a  score  had  fallen,  leaving  a  wide  gap 
through  to  the  smoking  brands.  Another  volley 
made  a  path  in  another  direction  through  the  war- 
riors, who  had  crowded  closely  together,  and  twenty 
soldiers,  led  by  Captain  Nelson,  dashed  over  the 
bodies  of  those  that  fell.    A  moment  more  and  they 

249 


Chunda 

had  cut  the  lariat  which  held  the  victim  to  the  stake, 
and  Nelson,  catching  her  in  his  arms,  bore  her  be- 
hind the  rampart  of  rock  into  the  cave  where  she 
had  been  confined. 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  an  awful  struggle. 
The  warriors  changed  their  shouts  to  mad  war 
wdioops  and  seized  their  rifles.  But  fifty  soldiers  and 
trained  police  were  charging  upon  them  with  car- 
bines in  one  hand  and  swords  or  revolvers  in  the 
other,  as  they  fought  hand-to-hand  with  the  desper- 
ate savages.  Many  of  these  fled  to  the  rocks,  from 
which  they  poured  a  rapid  fire  upon  the  soldiers. 
But  they  were  relentlessly  pursued  by  the  latter  to 
their  corners  and  there  mercilessly  slain  in  their 
tracks. 

The  Shamans  who  survived  the  first  volley  fled  to 
their  council  house,  and  a  dozen  cavalrymen,  wit- 
nessing their  flight,  pursued  them  and  cut  them 
down  with  their  swords. 

That  hour  was  the  doom  of  Shamanism.  Its  sun 
had  set,  and  there  rose  above  the  smoke  of  its  de- 
struction the  star  of  a  better  hope  for  the  Navajo 
nation. 

The  followers  of  the  Shamans  who  persisted  in 
fighting  shared  their  fate,  and  the  rest  in  half  an 
hour  had  been  hunted  out  of  their  hiding  places  and 
brought  to  the  spot  where  they  had  exultingly  wit- 
nessed the  sufferings  of  the  innocent  victim  of  their 
hatred  and  superstition.  Scarcely  a  third  of  the 
warriors  survived  the  carnage  of  that  half  hour. 
They  sullenly  surrendered  their  arms  to  the  victors, 

250 


Through  the  Fires  Into  Life 

and  were  put  under  a  heavy  guard  in  the  Shamans' 
council  house,  from  which  there  was  no  escape. 

Of  the  eighteen  soldiers  and  Navajo  police  that 
fell  in  this  conflict,  six  were  killed  and  seven  others 
mortally  wounded.  As  their  comrades  were  gather- 
ing them  out  of  the  heaped-up  bodies  of  the  dead 
warriors  they  came  upon  the  lifeless  form  of  Red- 
ford  lying  amid  the  smoking  brands  which  he  had 
dashed  away  from  Eulalia  before  she  was  overcome 
by  the  flame  which  had  been  driven  by  gusts  of  air 
into  her  face.  Taking  up  his  body,  the  soldiers  laid 
it  beside  their  dead  comrades,  casting  a  soldier's  coat 
over  it,  and  reported  their  discovery  to  Major 
Culvert. 

Eulalia  had  been  wonderfully  delivered  from  the 
missiles  which  flew  so  thickly  about  her,  but  there 
was  little  hope  of  restoring  her  to  consciousness. 
While  the  conflict  was  raging  Captain  Nelson,  in 
the  cavern  to  which  he  had  borne  her  helpless  body 
away  from  the  fighting,  was  chafing  her  hands,  and 
from  time  to  time  forcing  brandy  into  her  mouth. 
She  had  firmly  set  her  lips  and  shut  her  eyes  when 
the  flame  rose  around  her,  but  it  had,  at  the  moment 
of  her  rescue,  reached  her  lungs  and  caused  a  col- 
lapse, from  which  there  were  now  but  the  faintest 
signs  of  recovery  in  a  slight  motion  of  her  lips  and 
a  flutter  at  her  heart. 

The  darkness  had  now  settled  upon  the  awful 
scene  of  death  within  this  rock-girt  valley,  but  fires 
were  burning  to  aid  the  victors  in  caring  for  the 
wounded  and  piling  the  dead  in  heaps.     Guards 

251 


ClIUNDA 

were  set  at  the  entrance  of  the  gorge  which  had 
proved  such  a  fatal  inclosure  to  those  who  had  so 
long  plotted  here  to  enforce  and  maintain,  by 
violence  and  war,  the  traditions  of  their  nation. 

The  insane  fury  of  the  warriors  and  their  absorp- 
tion in  the  cruelties  of  Eulalia's  trial  and  tortures, 
which  had  also  engrossed  the  attention  of  their  sen- 
tinels, had  made  possible  the  surprise  which  had 
overwhelmed  them  with  well-deserved  vengeance. 
But  they  had  been  betrayed  by  one  whose  daughter 
had  been  healed  by  Nizenni's  skill,  though  he  had 
remained  obdurate  to  the  entreaties  of  his  wife  to 
join  the  supporters  of  her  work. 

The  sight  of  Nizenni's  pitiful  condition  as  she 
was  awaiting  her  fate  in  the  cavern,  which  he  knew 
would  be  certain  condemnation  and  death,  had  un- 
nerved his  stern  heart,  already  moved  by  her  kind- 
ness, and  he  had  fled  from  the  fortress  down  the 
trail  where  he  met  the  troops  after  they  had  dis- 
mounted. Led  by  the  scouts  to  Major  Medford,  he 
had  told  him,  in  the  presence  of  Captain  Nelson,  the 
peril  of  Nizenni  and  the  Maestro,  and  of  the  war- 
riors' ignorance  of  the  near  approach  of  the  troops. 
Major  Medford  needed  no  urging,  therefore,  to 
order  the  troops  to  an  immediate  attack  and  rescue 
of  the  prisoners.  The  soldiers  remounted  their 
horses  and  forced  their  way  through  the  thickets 
and  openings  of  the  wood  to  within  a  mile  of  the 
gorge.  Then,  dragging  the  howitzers  up  the  steep 
sides  of  the  mountain,  they  reached  the  canon,  which 
they  found  deserted,  and  captured  the  Navajos  at 

252 


Through  the  Fires  Into  Life 

the  entrance  of  the  fortress  before  their  alarm  was 
perceived  by  the  infuriated  warriors  at  their  mur- 
derous revel.  The  howitzers  were  placed  in  a  posi- 
tion to  cut  off  their  retreat  and  loaded  with  shrapnel. 
Then,  forming  for  charge,  they  fired  their  first  rifle 
volleys  from  two  directions  upon  the  throng  of 
Navajos,  and  dashed  into  hand-to-hand  conflict  ere 
the  warriors  were  fully  aware  of  the  strength  of 
their  assailants. 

The  night  was  spent  by  Nelson  and  Major  Cul- 
vert in  anxious  watching  over  Eulalia,  slowly  re- 
turning to  consciousness,  but  there  was  but  little 
hope  that  she  could  survive  the  shock  and  prostra- 
tion which  revived  sensibility  to  pain  would  bring 
upon  her.  Though  the  wounded  soldiers  needed  his 
utmost  skill  and  strength,  the  army  surgeon,  while 
caring  for  the  brave  veterans,  at  their  own  request 
came  every  half  hour  to  alleviate  her  suffering  and 
administer  such  gentle  stimulants  as  were  at  his 
command. 

The  construction  of  rude  stretchers  and  litters 
for  the  dead  and  wounded  went  on  through  the 
night.  In  the  morning  the  hidden  arms  and  ammu- 
nition of  the  Navajos  were  gathered  out  of  the  caves 
and  packed  for  transportation.  The  prisoners  were 
securely  bound  and  orders  given  to  their  guards  to 
shoot  them  down  if  they  attempted  to  escape  on  the 
march  to  Chin-a-li,  which  began  before  noon. 

Saddest,  perhaps,  of  the  sights  in  that  long  train 
which  stretched  through  the  canon  was  the  litter, 
carefully  covered  with  canvas,  that  bore  the  almost 

253 


Chunda 

lifeless  victim,  still  lingering  in  stupor,  from  that 
place  of  dreadful  slaughter.  Behind  the  group  of 
bearers  that  surrounded  her  litter  was  carried  the 
bo<ly  of  her  companion  in  captivity  on  the  rude 
stretcher,  still  covered  with  the  soldier's  cloak. 
Then  followed  other  stretchers  on  which  lay  the 
wounded  soldiers  and  their  dead  comrades.  The 
mountain  fortress  became  a  charnel  house  for  the 
slain  Navajos.  With  wholesome  dread  of  their 
crime  and  its  expiation,  their  people  have  never 
again  entered  it,  and  avoid  every  trail  that  leads  into 
the  gorge. 

It  was  near  the  close  of  the  day  that  the  train 
reached  Chin-a-li,  where  the  dead  soldiers  and  Na- 
vajo police  were  left  for  burial ;  but  Eulalia's  litter, 
followed  by  the  body  of  her  faithful  friend  and  the 
wounded  soldiers,  was  carried  on  to  Hedipa  Hos- 
pital. 

The  tidings  of  the  conflict  and  its  tragic  ending 
had  reached  Margaret  by  a  scout  sent  forward  by 
Major  Medford.  She  had  waited  all  the  afternoon 
and  evening  for  the  wounded  soldiers,  for  whom 
every  needed  preparation  was  made  in  the  ward  and 
operating  room,  but  when  toward  evening  another 
courier  brought  a  letter  from  Major  Culvert  at 
Chin-a-li,  telling  her  of  the  torture  of  Eulalia  and 
that  her  father  was  dead,  she  rallied  all  her  self- 
control  to  stem  the  tide  of  grief  that  seemed  ready 
to  overwhelm  her  spirit. 

They  bore  Eulalia  to  her  room,  for  she  was  in 
254 


Through  the  Fires  Into  Life 

the  tender  care  of  Captain  Nelson  and  the  nurses, 
and  unconscious  of  what  was  done  with  her.  But 
Margaret  Redford  received  her  father's  Hfeless 
body,  calmly  giving  directions  for  its  disposal  till 
she  could  be  left  alone  with  it.  She  knelt  beside  the 
cot  on  which  it  was  laid,  and  called  Nesito,  who  had 
learned  from  a  wounded  Navajo,  ere  he  died,  the 
story  of  her  father's  rescue  of  Eulalia  from  the 
flames.  With  surprise  and  anguish  Margaret 
listened  to  its  recital,  then  bowed  in  reverence  and 
tears  over  one  who  had  heroically  "finished  a  life 
heroic"  in  its  sacrifice  for  others. 

In  the  loneliness  of  that  silent  cahon,  still  in  the 
early  hours  of  the  morning,  she  knelt  by  that  loved 
form.  There  seemed  to  be  no  more,  for  her,  a  wis- 
dom not  her  own  on  which  she  could  lean.  The 
years  had  taken  from  her  both  father  and  mother, 
but  their  unselfish  lives  were  calling  her  to  take  up 
a  lowly  work  of  love  among  these  poor  children  of 
God. 

They  buried  Redford  near  the  grave  of  Hedipa, 
where,  by  the  service  of  the  church,  he  had  conse- 
crated the  ground  in  which  his  own  ashes  were  to 
lie  in  the  hope  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead. 

Was  Eulalia  to  be  placed  beside  him?  This  was 
an  anxious  question  of  her  friends  in  many  days  and 
weeks  of  watching  and  tenderest  care.  Slowly  she 
returned  to  conscious  life,  but  at  first  her  feeble 
grasp  upon  it  seemed  often  to  be  loosened.  Still 
she  struggled.  The  watchfulness  of  Margaret,  the 
skill  of  the  devoted  nurses,  the  undying  hope  of 

255 


Chunda 

Captain  Nelson,  all  combined  to  help  her  live.  Fate 
seemed  against  it ;  but  at  last  she  stepped  again  upon 
her  feet  and  moved  about  her  room.  Then  she 
gained  more  rapidly. 

One  day  she  was  wheeled  through  the  corridors 
of  the  hospital  to  the  broad  portal  to  look  up  the 
cafion  where,  many  weeks  before,  she  joyfully  rode 
with  her  protector  to  the  dance.  The  scene  brought 
back  her  ardent  hopes  on  that  evening  to  be  to  him 
who  had  since  then  so  devotedly  rescued  and  cared 
for  her  the  loving  helper  of  his  noble  undertaking. 
She  was  stronger  the  next  day. 

By  the  sympathy  and  smiles  of  her  people,  who 
now  often  stopped  at  the  hospital  gate,  she  was  en- 
couraged, and  a  belief  in  her  recovery  was  inspired 
within  her  soul  by  the  light  of  hope  in  their  eyes. 

One  summer  evening  Captain  Nelson,  sitting  be- 
side her  reclining  chair  on  the  portal,  observed  with 
anxiety  an  unusual  flush  on  her  pale  cheeks  which 
lingered  after  the  sunset  hues  had  ceased  to  be  re- 
flected upon  them  from  the  reddened  sides  of  the 
canon. 

He  put  forth  his  hand  to  stroke  her  brow,  but 
she  gently  took  it  in  her  own  and  held  it  back, 
while  she  said,  pausing  for  strength  to  give  answer 
to  his  long-waiting  heart: 

"Edward,  tomorrow  will  be  the  anniversary  of 
the  completion  of  the  hospital.  Let  us  thank  God 
and  take  courage.  Your  work  is  fully  begun  and 
prospers ;  mine  is  established  in  the  hearts  of  these 
Navajos,  and  I  am  ready  to  leave  it  to  her  who  has 

256 


Through  the  Fires  Into  Life 

so  tenderly  watched  me  and  guided  its  affairs  in  my 
sickness.  Margaret  has  told  me  of  Major  Culvert's 
longing  to  make  her  his,  and  they  are  betrothed 
already.  Let  us  make  a  place  for  them  here.  No 
one  could  better  direct  this  work  than  my  loved  fos- 
ter sister,  and  her  lover  has  today  received  notice  of 
his  reappointment.  There  is  a  place  for  me  at  Chin- 
a-li.  You  shall  give  it  to  me,  as  you  have  so  often 
and  tenderly  urged,  as  soon  as  you  can  find  some 
one  to  make  me,  with  Heaven's  blessing,  your 
wife." 

Nelson  bent  lovingly  toward  her  as  she  was  speak- 
ing; he  kissed  again  and  again  her  trembling  lips 
when  she  uttered  that  precious  word.  Then  he  said 
softly : 

"The  Bishop  arrived  at  Fort  Defiance  yesterday. 
He  will  come  to  Chin-a-li  with  Major  Culvert  to- 
morrow.   Is  that  too  soon,  my  darling?" 

She  lifted  her  beautiful  eyes  so  that  their  won- 
drous radiance  fell  upon  his  face  and  lighted  his 
own  with  joy.  Tlien,  giving  her  hand,  she  whis- 
pered : 

"Tomorrow?  Then  I  must  speak  to  Margaret 
now." 

THE  END, 


257 


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